


Where Your Loyalties Lie

by MsTrick



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blow Jobs, Boys Kissing, Canon-Typical Violence, Coming In Pants, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Fluffy Ending, Hand Jobs, Human Winston (Overwatch), M/M, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Power Dynamics, Romance, Slow Burn, some disturbing imagery, some gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-27
Updated: 2020-01-31
Packaged: 2020-07-20 16:08:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 57,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19994995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsTrick/pseuds/MsTrick
Summary: As a guard in the elite Talon forces, Gabriel is sorely unimpressed by Prince John, who he's been assigned to train and protect. But to get his revenge on the King, Gabriel will endure anything. However, the years pass and Gabriel finds Jack stealing more and more of his heart, forcing him to question the convictions that have guided him for so long.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Me: You already have two fics to finish, not to mention your real life writing job, you don't have the time for another multichapter stor--
> 
> Also me: I HAD AN IDEA FOR A ROYAL AU R76 FIC WITH LIBRARY SHENANIGANS SO I WROTE IT I HOPE YOU ENJOY

The last time Gabriel had been in the King's court, his father had been sentenced to death.

He’d been five years old, unable to comprehend phrases like “conspiring against the throne” and “found guilty of treason”. He hadn’t realized that when two members of the guards, his father's former colleagues, had roughly hauled him out of the court that it would be the last time Gabriel would ever see him alive.

A lot of things had changed in the fourteen years that had passed since that day. Gabriel's rage wasn’t one of them. While raising him, training him, Akande had told Gabriel the truth, that his father had grown too strong and admired, and so the King had framed him for a crime he didn’t commit.

Fortunately, as a brawny 19-year-old, Gabriel held little resemblance to his father or to the child he’d been at the time of his execution. The King showed no signs of recognizing him as his gaze swept over the ranks of his elite forces, the Talon Guard. Decked out in dark leather and weathered weaponry, they were a sharp contrast to the aristocracy in their colorful silks and expensive jewels.

Gabriel kept his emotions carefully in check as he scanned the pompous hall. Half of the enormous tapestries hanging between tall glass windows on the high walls featured the King. The gold and silver chandelier could kill five men if it fell. The main throne was just as large and gaudy, engulfing the short, rotund ruler. It seemed impossible that such a grub of a man could be father to the two handsome princes, who stood on either side of him, proud in polished suits of armor.

The princes’ doll-like younger sister Angela was perched on the lap of the Queen, whose throne was smaller but no less ostentatious. From what Gabriel had heard, the only things the Queen cared about were marrying off her children to appropriate suitors and destroying the social standing of any woman she suspected might be after her position.

The eldest prince, Reinhardt II, was as generous as he was strong, a mammoth of a man who had already proven himself on the battlefield. At 16 years old, John III had yet to have the chance and it showed. Though in good shape, he was puny compared to his brother. Gabriel had glimpsed the younger prince many times, of course, but he’d never quite had the opportunity to observe him for so long and at such close range.

From the unnatural stiffness of his posture, it was clear he didn’t share Reinhardt’s desire to be at the center of attention. His features were undeniably attractive, the strong jaw and full lips, but he hadn’t quite grown into them and didn’t yet have the confidence to make them sing. He blushed when he overheard the murmured admiration of two duchesses, the faint pink offsetting his most striking feature, his bright blue eyes.

Gabriel huffed out of his nostrils and wondered how long it would take before all that fawning inflated his ego.

“Well, Akande, who did you select to train John in combat?” The King asked, recapturing Gabriel’s attention.

The younger prince resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He had no doubt Lena was smirking into her palm behind one of the pillars. Everyone he was close to called him Jack. His mother, his siblings, his friends. It was only his father who staunchly refused to. Much like it was only his father who was interested in these grandiose proceedings, which he insisted on for even the smallest of decisions. There was no reason this selection process couldn’t have been held in private.

Jack tried not to let his nerves show. The Talon Guard were an intimidating lot, sleek in dark colors and clanking with weaponry. They were all eying him like a piece of meat. Or an unruly boy.

Akande inclined his head and summoned Gabriel to the front.

“You’re joking,” the King huffed, jiggling in his seat. “He’s a child. Surely, Zarya, you would be willing to train Jack as you did Reinhardt.”

“I apologize, Your Highness,” she demurred from Akande’s other side. “But I am not the most appropriate choice in this case. Prince Reinhardt is like me, strong and sturdy but not very fast or flexible. Prince John will need a different teacher, someone who understands how to truly hone his strengths.”

“And you really think—”

“Did you know your armor has several critical vulnerabilities?” Came a voice behind Jack.

Jack jumped. A pair of strong arms held him in place, preventing him from turning around.

The entire court murmured in shock. The Queen even gave a little shriek.

Not one of them had seen Gabriel move. He’d simply vanished and reappeared behind the prince.

Jack stifled a gasp as two fingers pushed into a gap between his chest pieces, digging into a tender spot at the side of his rib cage.

“Here,” Gabriel rumbled.

Gabriel then deftly knocked him off balance and caught his wrist to stretch out his arm. Breath brushed Jack’s neck as another finger poked a slim space where the armored shoulder piece met the chest plate.

“Here. And, of course…”

With a swift movement, Gabriel buckled the backs of both Jack’s knees, dropping him to a sudden kneel. Two fingers wedged into his jugular, just below his chin, tilting his head back. Gabriel’s eyes met the King’s.

“Here.”

After a tense moment, Reinhardt erupted into booming laughter.

“Smashing! What a performance!”

Red hot with embarrassment and anger, Jack jerked out of Gabriel’s hold and staggered back to his feet. His heart was beating furiously and he glared at Gabriel with eyes like blue fire. It was all he could do to not stalk out of the room.

“Touched by a witch, huh, lad?” The King mused, a sneer playing over his lips. “Alright. Since you have so capably demonstrated the uselessness of my son, you may have the privilege of whipping him into shape. As a matter of fact, you can act as his bodyguard as well.”

“But, Father—” Jack protested.

“His previous one proved less than satisfactory,” the King continued, ignoring him. “Move into the antechamber to his bedroom before nightfall.”

After a nod from Akande, Gabriel replied: “It would be my honor, Your Majesty.”

Gabriel gave Jack a small smirk before dissolving into a cloud of dark smoke. Delighted, the little princess giggled at the show. Gabriel flowed back to his place in the Talon Guard ranks and resolidified with an almost bored air. Their business concluded, they were dismissed shortly after.

As they passed through the stone walls and heavy wooden doors of the castle out into a sunlit courtyard, Gabriel began to shiver. The perimeter wall opened out into a bustling compound, where the Talon guards’ base of operations and barracks were located, along with the homes of the gentry not quite aristocratic enough to live inside the castle but not quite peasant enough to live in the town beyond the second perimeter wall. Unlike the infantry, who lived in a camp of shacks, Talon had relatively cozy accommodations with solid furniture, soft blankets and decent food.

By the time Gabriel entered their command center, the tremors were almost too violent for him to walk. Roadhog took his arm, the hold on his bicep as solid and comforting as steel.

“Moira!” Akande barked as soon as they were inside.

The redheaded woman swept in from the other room, nonchalant, her black and purple robes swishing around her. Gabriel doubled over, clenching his teeth so as not to groan in pain. Smoke trembled out from underneath his fingernails in silky tendrils.

“Wraithed more than once, I see,” she commented. “I did warn you not to push it.”

She pressed the pads of three fingers against his sweating forehead and murmured a few words in a language that flowed like river water, conjuring a golden glow that his skin absorbed greedily. Slowly, his vision and pulse returned to normal, the pain draining from his system.

“Perhaps this gift was too heavy a burden for you,” she simpered.

Gabriel shook his head, unsure he wouldn’t vomit if he opened his mouth.

“He’ll get used to it,” Akande tossed off.

Moira let out a low, amused laugh before pulling up her hood.

“I’ve herbs to collect in the forest. Which reminds me. Gabriel, you can start repaying me by bringing me a lock of the princess’s hair.”

The request sent a chill down Gabriel’s spine. He thought of that sunny child on her mother’s knee and shuddered to think what a witch like Moira could do to her. But he knew he was in no position to refuse and reluctantly nodded his assent. The temperature of the room seemed to rise by a few degrees with her departure.

“I commend you for showing no weakness in the court,” Zarya said, clapping a hand on Gabriel’s shoulder.

"That weren’t the plan though, I thought,” grumbled Junkrat, hopping between his peg leg and his real foot.

“It worked, didn't it?” Gabriel huffed, regaining his breath.

“You got lucky,” Akande reprimanded, sitting at the head of the large table. “The King could just as easily have had you killed for that stunt. Thinking isn't your strong suit, boy. Leave the strategizing to me.”

Gabriel shrugged, knowing better than to talk back.

“Regardless, you being assigned as the prince’s bodyguard is an unexpected windfall,” Akande continued, a glint in his eye. “You did well today.”

The words sounded wooden, like he’d memorized a script in advance, but Gabriel was nevertheless warmed by them.

After the death of Gabriel’s father, Akande had stepped in to take his place not only as leader of Talon but as Gabriel’s guiding parental figure. His mother had died when he was a baby, another reason it was impossible for Gabriel to look upon the healthy, golden-haired royal family with anything but disdain. Reinhardt was the only one he had a modicum of respect for, since they’d fought alongside one another in a battle along their nation’s border last year. But his vainglorious nature far overshadowed his bravery.

Still, Gabriel would have preferred that buffoon’s self-aggrandizing to the pathetic little prince he now not only had to train but also follow around like a dog.

Gabriel struggled not to sulk as he collected his few clothes and belongings into a satchel. Really, the only two items he cared about were the worn anthology of stories his father left him and his mother’s wedding band, a beautifully ornate brass ring that he wore on a leather cord around his neck at all times. That was all that was left of his parents. Talon had long become what felt like his true family. He would sorely miss rising with the rest of the guards at dawn, the easy chatter at meals and comradery during drills.

Lunch was already being scarfed down at the large table.

Akande and Zarya conversed in serious tones between bites of smoked meat. Junkrat talked a mile a minute, choking more than once, while Roadhog chewed through his meal as steadily as a horse at a trough. The twins, Jesse and Ashe, elbowed each other and argued with their mouths full. Ng leaned away from Mauga with an irritated look on his face. Amélie nibbled with ladylike bites that betrayed her aristocratic upbringing. She refused to answer questions about her past though, and her terrifyingly accurate aim was more than enough of an excuse to let her keep her secrets.

Olivia gave Gabriel a wide smile as he took the seat next to her. He felt a pang that this would likely be his last meal with them for a while but quickly shook off the sentimental mood. If everything went to plan, they’d be eating together again in a few short years and they’d all be dining in luxury.

Jack had already slipped his mind.

Back in the court, the opposite was true.

Jack was mortified and seething, enraged at Gabriel and enraged at his father. Fully aware that the last thing Jack would want to do after being humiliated was remain standing in front of the aristocracy, the King insisted Jack remain until the day’s business had concluded. No doubt he assumed this would be another lesson to toughen Jack up. Much like the Queen's dismissal of Vincent a few days ago.

Vincent had been Jack’s bodyguard for years and Jack had adored him, considered him his closest friend, confided in him. Talking to him had felt so easy, as had Vincent’s arm around his shoulders and curling into his side. His mother, observing their affection, had rebuked Jack in harsh but vague terms. Something about how real men didn’t act in such a way, how it was unnatural, how the family line had to be priority.

Jack had no idea how having a close male friend would interfere with the family line, so he just nodded along to her scolding, acting chastised while looking forward to laughing with Vince about it afterwards. But when he returned to his rooms, he found them empty of Vincent’s things, except for a brief note in which Vincent apologized, explained that the decision to leave was not his and assured Jack that he would always love him.

That someone like Gabriel was going to be taking Vincent’s place was infuriating, salt rubbed into his wounded heart.

What stung the most was that Jack had always secretly admired Gabriel. Whenever he watched from his window as Talon ran through their drills, Jack searched for him. The young guard wasn’t the fastest or the strongest, but there was a beautiful fluidity to his movements and Gabriel got back up every time no matter how many hits he took.

Apparently, what Jack had taken for tenacity had been merely uncouth arrogance.

The nerve of him to bring Jack to his knees in front of the entire court!

Alone in his bedroom and finally out of that stupid suit of armor, Jack paced with a fire in his gut. He couldn’t stop replaying those moments. The hulking figure at his back, the rough grip on his wrist, the breath on his neck, the calloused fingers on the vulnerable skin of his throat tipping his head back.

Jack fell asleep scowling into this pillow, still burning up with everything he was feeling about Vincent and Gabriel. His dreams were a blur of contact and heat, the press of a solid male body against his own, rich brown eyes. He woke up with his hand wrapped around himself, hard and hot and confused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOW FUCKING GORGEOUS IS THAT ART???? o̶̶̷̤ .̫ o̴̶̷̤
> 
> I commissioned an R76 piece from [Ami](https://twitter.com/Tookunami) and she completely randomly suggested knight Gabriel/prince Jack, so I can only assume the universe has bestowed its blessing on this AU ヾ(≧▽≦*)o


	2. Chapter 2

Gabriel’s training was about as brutal as Jack expected. Their sessions were 85% strength-building exercises and 15% introduction to various weaponry, a segment Jack was pretty sure was designed to show him exactly why he needed to build muscle. His arms were shaking and he’d only fired five arrows. He notched a sixth and drew back the stiff string, struggling to hold the bow steady. It didn’t surprise him that the arrow fell short of the target nailed to a tree.

Gabriel snorted.

“You are the worst shot I’ve ever seen.”

“Well, then I can only get better,” Jack said, undeterred.

The matter-of-fact optimism caught Gabriel off-guard.

If he was honest, a lot about Jack was catching him off-guard. The least of which was his insistence that Gabriel call him Jack. Akande had always described the younger prince as spoiled and vapid, disinterested in people and political events. But Gabriel was discovering that Jack’s detachment was more because people didn’t speak to him rather than a lack of interest or a dulled intellect.

Jack wasn’t the heir to the throne, so visiting dignitaries and social climbing flatterers lavished their attention on Reinhardt or the King. He wasn’t a princess that could be dressed up like a doll and fawned over. The most Jack was expected to accomplish was to marry a royal from another nation to solidify a political alliance. Doubtless, discussions of both the alliance and the marriage wouldn’t include him.

Jack was well within his rights to be spoiled, vapid and disinterested in the world around him, but he wasn’t.

It was actually pissing Gabriel off a little. At least he could take solace in the fact that Jack was indeed as useless in combat as he’d assumed.

Though still angry about Gabriel’s swift neutralization of him in front of the court, Jack had to admit he had a lot to learn from the older teen. Gabriel could back up his arrogance with knowledge and experience, and despite his bad temper, he was a good teacher.

“You’re relying on these muscles too much,” he said, tapping Jack’s bicep. “Use these more.”

His finger drew a line over Jack’s shoulder blades. 

Jack nodded and focused on activating the muscles in his upper back when he drew back the next arrow. His arms still trembled from the exertion, but it was easier to steady the bow. The instant he released, the string unexpectedly snapped. The sudden lack of resistance sent Jack tripping sideways.

Gabriel caught him before he fell, his broad chest and thick arms easily bearing Jack’s weight.

And Jack realized with a quiet click that he wanted this. 

He wanted men the way other men wanted women. He wanted strength and hardness in his bed, the rasp of a beard on his skin during a kiss, calloused fingers entwined with his. That craving for a woman’s company that Reinhardt insisted would hit him any day now wasn’t delayed; it wasn’t coming at all.

Jack knew he ought to be disturbed by the discovery of such an intrinsic difference, but he was instead consumed by the almost wondrous thrum of satisfaction that came with understanding yourself just a bit better, deciphering another piece of the puzzle of who you were. 

On reflection, his closeness with Vincent took on new warmth and depth. There were myriad moments that could have led to something more had they been a few centimeters closer or a little more daring. Vincent’s final note broke fresh cracks in Jack’s heart. It was devastating that his mother had figured out before Jack that he and Vincent were in love. She’d vanquished a treasure he hadn’t even realized he’d had.

Jack’s head and his heart were whirling far too much to concentrate on the rest of the training. Though he could now hit the target, there wasn’t enough force to make the arrows stick. Unimpressed by the poor performance, Gabriel tripled the number of push-ups, sit-ups and squats, but Jack did everything he was instructed to do without comment or complaint.

That faraway look was still in his eyes by the time he bid Gabriel a vague good night and closed the door to his bedchamber.

Annoyed and baffled, Gabriel lay awake on his modest bedroll. The quiet of the castle after dark was alien. Hours later, just as he was about to drift off into sleep, he heard Jack’s door eke open again. The prince was evidently trying to be stealthy as he crept across the small anteroom, unbolted the entrance and slipped into the hall.

Gabriel waited a few seconds, then unfurled from his blankets in a cloud of smoke and squeezed under the door to follow him, silent and unseen in the flickering torchlight. It was clear Jack knew his route well. He skipped down a narrow spiral staircase and Gabriel paused at the top to reform and catch his breath. Wraithing was getting easier but it still took a lot out of him. He knew how to be noiseless without it anyway. 

Descending, he was surprised to find himself in the servants' part of the castle, where the maids and attendants and cooks were stowed out of sight. Voices and light came from behind a large door at the end of the dim corridor, behind which his nose would bet was the kitchen. Gabriel peered in and found his assumption was correct. A long table filled the center, acting as a chopping board and the servants’ dining space during the day, and apparently as the location of a card game at night. Several people were sitting around dripping candles with cups of wine at the far end.

“Look who’s finally shown up!” Lena sang out as Jack approached. “We’ve already played the first round.”

“Needed a nap,” Jack laughed, taking a seat. “Had a rough day.”

“Sure,” Baptiste drawled with a smirk. “Or you just lost so badly last time, you thought you’d skip a round or two.”

Jack feigned outrage and poured himself some wine.

It was startling to hear them speak to the prince so irreverently. Lena was the royal messenger and spent her days zipping about the castle like a dragonfly. Baptiste trained with the Talon Guard years ago but had since become the resident physician.

More startling was the familiar voice that spoke next. 

“Surprised you can walk after Gabriel ran you ragged. Was watchin’ a bit. You gotta work on that aim.”

What was Jesse McCree doing here? Since when were he and Jack friends? And why wasn’t Ashe with him?

The twins were always roping the other guards into card games. It struck Gabriel as odd that she wouldn’t be included in this merry gathering. It hurt a little, too, that Jesse had never invited Gabriel along. Next to Olivia, Jesse was his closest friend.

Feeling blue, Gabriel distracted himself by observing how Jack transformed when he was relaxed and happy. This was a different person than the stiff toy soldier propped up in court and the keen but quiet student Gabriel bossed around. Jack absorbed the friendly jibes with aplomb and threw out a few jokes of his own. His smiles were genuine and infectious. They lit up the room. 

With a small sigh, Gabriel retreated and made his way back to Jack’s quarters, where he fought the ache of loneliness the way he’d always fought it, by rereading the stories in his father’s anthology.

Gabriel woke to knocking. The morning sun cut across the ceiling from the narrow windows. He unbolted the door and waved Emily in with a yawn, stepping out of her way so she could set down Jack’s breakfast tray. While she fussed about waking and dressing the prince, Gabriel chewed through the portion of fruit and bread set out for him.

“I meet with my tutor today,” Jack said after he emerged, coiffed and fed.

“So, you won’t need me.”

“I think I will.”

“Won’t you be in the castle?”

“Yep.”

“So, why do you need me there?”

Jack just shrugged, drawing a scowl from the guard. Then, for the second time in twelve hours, Gabriel followed Jack to a part of the castle he’d never seen.

“What’s the book you fell asleep with?” Jack asked as they walked. 

“None of your business.”

“From the looks of it, you’ve read it quite a few times.”

“What if I have?”

“You don’t get bored of it?”

“No.”

“Guess it’s hard to get bored of myths. Seems like there’s always another level of meaning to be found.”

Gabriel didn’t respond, disliking how vulnerable this conversation was making him feel. He should have been more careful to conceal the anthology. Letting others know what you loved was a guaranteed way to get hurt.

Gabriel trailed Jack through a pair of sturdy wooden doors and his breath caught.

They were in the library, shelves upon shelves of leather-bound tomes on two levels connected by a grand staircase and illuminated by daylight pouring in through the large windows. One shelf held more books than Gabriel had seen in his whole life. His chest felt tight. The entire library was infused with the musty smell of paper that he associated with the memory of his father reading to him as a boy, a time when he was loved and safe. 

A tall, stern-faced man with the pale skin of an academic waited by a round table laden with books, parchment and quills. He bowed to Jack.

“Good morning, Siebren. This is Gabriel, my new bodyguard.”

“You’re anticipating his presence will be necessary?”

“Can’t be too careful,” Jack quipped.

“Indeed,” Siebren replied in a clipped voice.

Jack turned to Gabriel, who tried to hide the awe in his gaze as it swept over the stacks.

“My lessons last until luncheon. Obviously, there’s no need for you to just sit and listen in. Feel free to explore.” 

Gabriel’s eyes went wide in surprise. His heartbeat cantered in his chest. That he was truly being given access to the wealth of stories around him was unbelievable. He waited for Jack to continue, to state what he’d want in return for this privilege, but Jack was already moving towards the study table.

“Thank you,” Gabriel said, voice shy and low, his stomach flipping in excitement.

Jack looked at him with those dazzling blue eyes and smiled, sincere and warm and just for Gabriel.

And though every rational bone in his body was screaming that he absolutely could not under any circumstances become friends with the prince, Gabriel smiled back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That scene from Disney's "Beauty and the Beast" is never not going to be the height of romanticism for me.


	3. Chapter 3

A month passed, each day sanding down the newness of Gabriel’s routine a bit more. Tasks like letting Emily in in the mornings, accompanying Jack to the baths and setting up equipment for their training sessions became normal and mindless. Roaming the library during Jack’s tutorials with Siebren quickly became the highlight of his week, though it was dinners that proved most educational.

The evening meal was the one time a day that the entire royal family, including the dozen dukes and duchesses, were all in one place. The amount of food they went through turned Gabriel’s stomach. While standing soundless with the collection of other bodyguards along the walls, he logged political developments and nuggets of personal intrigue to pass along to Akande. 

Conversation and the clink of cutlery filled the large hall. Angela squirmed away from her mother’s side and skipped towards him.

“Gabriel! Gabriel!” She chanted, fearless and bright.

“Good evening, Princess,” he replied with a small bow.

“Angie, leave Gabriel alone. He’s working,” Jack said, standing to approach.

Despite his chiding, Jack was secretly happy for the excuse to step away from his cousins’ repetitive gossip.

“Show me the smoke trick!” Angela yipped.

“ _Please_ show me the smoke trick,” Jack corrected.

“Mama says I don’t need to say ‘please’ to servants,” the girl said with a pout. “They have to do what I say anyway.”

“Well, true, but it’s the things you choose to do that define the type of person you are. Do you want to be the type of person who’s only nice when she has to be?”

Angela considered this for a minute, the candlelight playing over the serious expression on her little face. The other guards were scoffing and making faces at each other. Teaching a noble to be benevolent was as vaudevillian as teaching a cat to stand on its head.

“Okay,” she said. “Please, Gabriel, show me the smoke trick again?”

“It would be my pleasure, m’lady,” he said, kneeling to her height.

He held out both hands and let them dissolve. She squealed in glee even as the other guards sidled away, unsettled and superstitious. Everyone knew socializing with a witch’s associates could bring hellish consequences.

“What does it feel like?” Angela asked, dragging her fingers through the dark cloud. “Does it hurt?”

“It’s a bit hard to describe, I’m afraid. It’s sort of like when your foot falls asleep. It doesn’t hurt, but it does make me tired.”

Jack had never seen Gabriel so obliging — he certainly wasn’t this patient during their training — and he couldn’t help staring a little. Mindful of his mother’s constant surveillance, Jack was careful to keep his posture rigid and his tone professional. He didn’t want to give her any reason to make Gabriel vanish as well.

The hole Vincent had left in his life remained large and raw, but Jack had to admit he was enjoying deciphering the contradictions in his new companion. A battle-scarred bodyguard with a weakness for fiction. An aloof asshole who was kind to children. The thoughtful, intelligent person beneath Gabriel’s gruff demeanor and hostile attitude fascinated Jack. Gabriel wasn’t exactly unpleasant to look at either. The glossy, dark hair and bulging muscles and wicked smile.

While Jack still hadn’t entirely forgiven the guard for the stunt he’d pulled at their introduction, it had been Gabriel's body that revealed to Jack his own sexual preferences, and because of that, Jack couldn't help but nurse a soft spot for him. Couldn’t help but want to know more about him.

“About your gift… Were you blessed by a witch or cursed?” Jack asked as they walked to Reinhardt’s chambers. 

“You do like your invasive questions, don’t you?”

“I just want to know if some vengeful banshee is going to swoop out of the forest looking for you, so I can get out of the way.”

Gabriel rolled his eyes.

“I asked the witch for this ability. Wouldn’t call it a gift though. Had to pay for it.”

“Why did you ask for it?”

It didn’t surprise him that Gabriel pointedly refused to answer. Rumor had it that witches exacted high prices for their blessings, the type of price you didn’t discuss above a whisper, the type of price you could only pay once. Jack wondered if Gabriel would ever tell him what he’d had to exchange for it.

A few minutes of silence went by. Their footsteps echoed around the stone walls. After depositing Jack at his brother’s luxurious living quarters, already rowdy with games and wine, Gabriel took his leave.

Stars glittered overhead as he crossed the courtyard and passed through the gates to the outer compound. The windows of Talon’s base of operations glowed warm and inviting in the chilly night.

Gabriel’s heart swelled with the feeling of returning home, expanding like bread in an oven when cheers greeted his entrance. Olivia flung her arms around him and Roadhog gave him a thumbs up. Jesse clapped him on the back. Akande nodded from his seat at the head of the table.

“Howza high life up in the royal digs?” Junkrat demanded to know.

“Nothing special. A lot of tight asses tiptoeing around a dank old building. Far more fun down here.”

“Jesse told us the little prince can’t aim without your assistance,” Mauga said with a nasty laugh.

“He’ll be better than Amélie by the time I’m done with him.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, chérie,” she said, her lips tipping up into a small smile.

A cold voice cut through the jolly bustle.

“I believe you have something for me.”

Moira held out her hand, expectant.

A lead weight sank in Gabriel’s stomach, but he fished the lock of gold hair from his pocket. It had been disgustingly easy for him to wraith into Angela's room at night and shear the silky strands with his knife. They pooled like thread in Moira’s palm.

“Brilliant. Your first debt is repaid.”

“What are you going to do with it?” Gabriel asked.

“Great things,” was her only reply, eyes glinting.

Akande’s rich voice called them all to order and the chatter quieted down. There was a clatter of weaponry and armor as they jostled for places on the benches. Olivia wedged herself into Gabriel’s side and gave his arm a squeeze.

“We received welcome news today,” Akande announced. “Vishkar, to the north, has agreed to assist us.” 

A whooping cheer went up.

“They will, however, need a few years to gather and prepare their forces,” he continued, once the noise had died down. “So, we’ll be delaying accordingly. When they launch their attack, we will have our opportunity. Gabriel, I look forward to hearing your report about the royals’ movements inside the castle. It will make tracking them down and executing them much simpler when the time comes.”

Gabriel shoved aside all sentimentality and opened his mouth to speak, but was surprised to hear the question in the back of his mind voiced aloud.

“Can’t just exile ‘em?” Jesse asked.

“No, you idiot,” Ashe retorted. “If they live, they’re only gonna come back. Royals are like cockroaches. Gotta stamp ‘em all out in one go.”

Akande let out a hearty laugh.

“An apt analogy. And an accurate one,” he said, fixing Jesse with a hard stare. His gauntlet gleamed menacingly in the torchlight. “We cannot show softness. Remember, these are people who will kill you and those you love on a whim, if they so desire. They have wielded their power unfairly for long enough. The King’s taxes are draining the countryside dry. People will starve come winter while he feasts inside his fortress.”

“Sorry, sir,” Jesse mumbled, eyes low.

“Sentiment towards an individual is understandable, but it must be viewed in context. Many of us are fond of Prince Reinhardt, for example. He fought bravely by our sides on the battlefield, but no one here can expect him to be a wise ruler. He is too focused on his own glory and his own pleasures. As a man, he is a fine friend; as a political figure, he is an unfortunate liability. Sometimes, to set history on the correct course, we must sacrifice the comforts and friends of today, no matter how painful.”

There were somber nods from those gathered.

At Akande’s behest, Gabriel related the usual routines of the royal family in as much detail as possible, pausing to allow for huffs of disbelief. The King required _that_ many assistants in the morning? The Queen spent _how_ much time bathing? The duchesses did _what_ all afternoon?

Akande settled a pleased hand on Gabriel’s shoulder when he had finished, sending a rush of pride through him.

It was almost midnight when Gabriel bid his comrades goodbye, trading friendly shoves and hugs. Olivia followed him out into the dark night, skinny arms wrapped around herself. The tiny sliver of a moon gave almost no light. Gravel crunched under their boots.

“Careful,” she intoned. “Those feelings of yours are only going to cause trouble for everyone.”

“Get out of my head, Olivia.”

“Don’t need to be able to read minds to see you’re conflicted.”

Unlike Gabriel’s witch-given abilities, Olivia had been born with her second sight. It was a gift she learned the hard way was best kept hidden. Her parents ejected her from their house for it when she was just a little girl. Gabriel and Amélie had caught her stealing bread in the market, and Talon readily absorbed the nimble thief into their ranks.

Only Gabriel and Amélie knew about her abilities, though Akande must have suspected something. Olivia had the answers to too many questions for her to be coming upon them naturally. Especially since she had developed an undeniable arrogance from being able to read the hidden levels underlying others’ every word and action.

“Shouldn’t you be warning Jesse about this instead?” Gabriel deflected.

“I already have. Jesse’s got his sister to keep him focused on our goals. And her commitment is unwavering. You, on the other hand, are a wild card. History’s going to rest on what you choose to do.”

“I will not hesitate to kill the man who disgraced and executed my father.”

“I don’t doubt that. But you’re already softening towards John — oh, you even call him Jack? — as well as that spoiled brat of a princess, and it’s barely been five weeks. Where will you be when Vishkar shows up in a few years?”

“Why don’t you tell me?”

“Can’t see that far ahead.”

“Then, I guess you’ll just have to trust me.”

“Lord, help us all,” she said, shaking her head. “You’ll draw hearts tomorrow.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ll see,” she said over her shoulder as she walked away.

Gabriel hated when she did that. Her predictions could usually be interpreted both literally and figuratively, and the metaphors often only made sense in hindsight. At least she’d given him a set timeframe for this riddle.

He mulled over it throughout the next day, but nothing that occurred seemed to fit. As he lay in bed, he found himself wondering if the answer was the plum Jack offered him during training.

Not long after the moon rose, Jack crept by him and out into the hall.

This was the fourth time he’d done so. Each time, Gabriel had tailed him to the kitchen, eavesdropped for a while and then retreated to his bed. He told himself it was just to make sure his charge wasn’t in any danger, but it was hard to deny the sting of envy. He deeply missed the camaraderie of the Talon dorms. The night before had been the first time he’d spoken to them in a month, when he used to spend every waking minute with them.

As before, he waited a few seconds before wraithing after Jack like a pathetic ghost. Rounding the corner in the corridor, he was startled to find Jack leaning against the wall with his arms folded.

“You know, if you’re going to stalk me, you might as well join us.”

A few inches shorter than Gabriel and only just beginning to bulk up, the prince didn't exactly cut a very authoritative figure. Still, Gabriel internally cringed at being caught stepping out of bounds.

“It’s not stalking,” he protested after he resumed his normal form. “I’m your bodyguard.”

“You could have just asked where I was going.”

“One thing I’ve learned is that asking people directly rarely gets you the real answer.”

“Do you want to join us?”

“Of course not."

"Should I assume that's not your real answer?" Jack asked, amused.

"Why the hell would I want to play cards with you and your friends?”

“Yeah, that’s what Jesse said you’d say.”

“That little punk shouldn't even be in the castle. I should report him to the Talon Commander.”

“But he’s not doing anything wrong,” Jack argued. “And technically, if I invited him, it’s fine for him to be here.”

“You know you can just command me to not say anything, right? You don’t have to play nice and try to convince me.”

“You’re annoyed I treat you like a person?”

“It’s annoying you’re denying the reality of things. It’s easy enough for _you_ to dismiss class divisions and play like you’re an everyman, but don’t convince yourself it’s a privilege that goes both ways. You think Lena would be welcomed into one of Reinhardt’s game nights?”

Jack scowled.

“Oh,” Gabriel drawled. “Did I ruin the illusion that you and your friends were equals?”

“You’re such an asshole. I’m not going to order you around just because you’d be more comfortable if I was a spoiled brat.”

“You _are_ a spoiled brat. You just can’t see it.”

“And you’ve got a chip on your shoulder because you think _not_ being born noble means you’re inherently morally superior.” Jack turned to continue walking. “Look, just forget it. You’re not obligated to like me. Join if you want. Don’t join if you don’t want.”

Gabriel had been itching for a proper fight, but Jack’s de-escalation took the wind out of his sails. Though Gabriel stood by everything he’d said, the view of Jack’s back reminded him of Jack walking away after granting him access to the library, expecting nothing in return. And beyond that first thank you, Gabriel hadn’t given anything in return.

“Wait,” he sighed, catching up to the younger teen. “I’m sorry. It would be… Well, I wouldn’t mind joining.”

Jack gave him a skeptical look but didn’t object.

The kitchen, smelling of fresh bread and spices, was warm and welcoming. Lena was delighted to make Gabriel’s acquaintance. Baptiste greeted him cordially. Though Jesse seemed rattled at the other guard’s sudden appearance, when it became clear Gabriel wasn’t going to rebuke him, he relaxed. The wine helped.

Lena dealt with practiced efficiency, and Crazy Eights unrolled at an easy enough pace. In spite of himself, Gabriel found he was having fun. He and Jesse were soon ribbing each other like they’d always done. Lena was an endless font of funny anecdotes from her job as a messenger. Baptiste’s dry wit kept them in stitches. Jack’s suspicion of Gabriel’s intentions trickled away, until he was carefree and laughing.

And there was something about Jack’s genuine smile that Gabriel couldn’t get enough of. It just made him happy to see it. Maybe it was just the wine.

It didn’t surprise him in the least that every time he had to pick up a card, it was a heart.


	4. Chapter 4

Spring bloomed into summer not long after Jack’s 17th birthday, the heat adding an extra burden to their training sessions, which were held either in the inner courtyard or in a clearing at the edge of the forest. The shade from the woods was downright necessary these days.

Gabriel had taken his shirt off as they practiced arm locks and defensive hand-to-hand maneuvers. Jack would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little distracted by the drops of sweat running down the rich tones of his skin and the oddly beautiful ring hanging around his neck. Jack didn't ask about it, knowing Gabriel wouldn't answer. 

Jack opted to keep his own linen shirt on, sure he’d lose his concentration entirely if he felt Gabriel's bare chest sliding against his own.

Gabriel, of course, took every distracted opening Jack gave him, and at one point, landed a left hook straight into the side of his blond head. Jack hit the ground, the wind knocked out of him, a little shocked at the strength of the blow.

Vincent had taught him the basics of fighting, but Jack had lately realized just how much those lessons had been an excuse for physical contact rather than truly useful instruction. Vincent had never seriously hit him. No one had. Bruising a prince’s ego could be fatal; few risked it. But that apparently didn’t bother Gabriel.

Jack only just rolled out of the way of the ensuing kick aimed at his midsection.

“Back off a minute,” he groaned, his head spinning.

“You think an assassin’s going to give you time to stand back up?” Gabriel asked, scowling down at him.

“Isn’t it your job to stop assassins before they get that close? No one’s going to assassinate me anyway. I’m not an important enough target.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“You’ve said as much before,” Jack groused. “What oh-so-obvious thing have I missed this time?”

“You’re loved.”

Jack frowned up at him, confused.

“You yourself may not be politically influential, but it’s no secret that Reinhardt is very fond of you," Gabriel continued. "If someone wanted to inflict personal pain on the soon-to-be king or destabilize his emotional state—”

“They might go after me."

“A lady’s approaching. You might want to get up and at least pretend you have some dignity.”

Aching and covered in dirt, Jack stifled another groan and climbed to his feet. The young woman strode towards them with the type of confidence that came from having great beauty or great power or both, and judging by the regal blue of her dress, Gabriel would bet she had plenty of authority to go along with that heart-shaped face.

Black hair shining in the sunlight, she zeroed in on Jack.

“You must be Prince John,” she said, not bothering to curtsy. “I’m to tell you the convoy from Amari has arrived and your mother would like you to clean up before presenting yourself for luncheon.”

Amari was a small but wealthy nation to the south, known for its silks and spices. The King had been trading letters with their leaders for months, discussing a trade deal and possible military alliance. The arrival of their contingent had been expected today or tomorrow to complete the negotiations.

“And who might you be?” Jack asked, keenly aware of his disheveled appearance.

“She’s likely to be your new sister-in-law,” Gabriel said.

A look of surprise came over her. She finally seemed to register that Gabriel was there, too.

“Ana,” she supplied, bemused. “That’s quite a deduction.”

“Hardly,” Gabriel scoffed. “I simply did my research. You have the mark of Amari nobility under your eye. Your clothes are simple, but your nails are clean. And it didn’t even cross your mind to bow to Jack.”

“And you are?”

“Gabriel Reyes.”

“My bodyguard and very short-tempered combat instructor,” Jack said.

“You speak very freely to your superiors,” she said, more curious than pedantic.

“He’s allowed to,” Jack asserted.

“Is Reinhardt equally soft on his subordinates?”

“No one’s as soft as Jack,” Gabriel said with a snicker.

“Asshole,” Jack said, giving Gabriel’s shoulder a shove.

“I take it you dressed below your station because you were hoping to unearth some gossip about your fiancé?” Gabriel estimated.

“Nothing gets by you,” Ana laughed, eyes glittering in interest. “I presumed simply asking the prince about his brother’s character would either net me an entirely positive or entirely negative response.”

“I would find it difficult to speak ill of Reinhardt even if he wasn’t my brother,” Jack said. “He’s a fair and brave man, generous, good humored. Unsurprisingly, Gabriel could give you a more candid insight into his flaws. They fought alongside one another several years ago.”

“Fortunately, his sins aren’t venal,” Gabriel said, pulling his shirt back on. “His appetite for glory and fame can outweigh his common sense, his patience could use some work and he’s hardly an intellectual. But on my honor, that’s about it.”

“Careful,” she teased. “If you keep up with the honest assessments and insightful analyses, I might demand you become my bodyguard instead.”

Dread plunked into the pit of Jack’s stomach. As the future queen of their kingdom, Ana would be well within her right to request anything she wanted as a wedding gift. If she wanted Gabriel’s service, she’d get it. Jack would have no say.

“I’m afraid the King himself assigned me to this post a few months ago,” Gabriel demurred. “I’d hardly want to abandon it so soon.”

Jack glanced at him, pleasantly surprised. He’d thought Gabriel would have jumped at the chance to ditch him, King’s orders or no.

“Well,” Ana said. “I wouldn't want to start my marriage by thieving from my brother-in-law. Still, if you change your mind...”

As the three of them strolled from the edge of the woods to the north side of town and then through the outer and inner perimeter walls, Gabriel entertained Ana with stories of Reinhardt’s training with Zarya, some flattering, some not. Ana spoke about life in Amari, their political structure and how much drier and hotter their climate was. Already, they talked like old friends, cracking jokes with each other. Jack was even quieter than usual, only contributing a word or two, a fact Gabriel asked him about when they were alone in the baths.

Excepting the great hall, where balls and feasts were held, the baths were the most luxurious part of the castle. The elegantly tiled space was separated into male and female sections. Sunken marble pools were heated by braziers underneath the hollow floor. Bowls of perfumed oils and delicate soaps scented the steamy air. Attendants were on hand to scrub and soap and massage any body part the nobility demanded. It was a far cry from the wooden tubs of cold water that Gabriel and other servants washed in in a small room near the kitchen.

Gabriel sat barefoot and cross-legged with his back against one of the tiled pillars a few feet from the rim of the large bath Jack was soaking in. Winston, a man almost as bulky as Reinhardt, had just finished washing Jack’s hair, a job he’d done since the prince was a toddler.

Dressed and bathed and groomed and chaperoned by a parade of servants throughout his life, Jack had thought nothing of being naked. Even with Vincent, it never occurred to him to be shy. But now, knowing what he wanted, Jack struggled to keep his body calm with Gabriel so close.

“I take it you didn’t like the Amari princess?” Gabriel guessed, absently twirling one of his knives.

“What? Oh, no, Ana’s fine. I just don’t really get why you told her you wanted to stay as my guard after you guys got along so well. I mean, I’m glad you did. But I highly doubt it’s to honor my father’s wishes.”

Gabriel shrugged.

“You’ve grown on me.”

“Bodyguard to the Queen would be a more prestigious position. You’d be protecting someone more important than potential sentimental collateral.”

“Probably wouldn’t be allowed read in the library though. Or punch her in the head.”

Jack laughed, hanging over the rim of the pool, pleased at how much thicker his arms were now.

“Good thing I’m so soft or you could have hurt your hand.”

Gabriel cracked a smile at that.

“Thanks, by the way,” Jack continued. “For not holding back in our spars.”

“Yeah, well, not much in your head to dislodge.”

Jack sent a huge splash of water Gabriel’s way, soaking him. The expression of appalled shock on his bodyguard’s normally controlled features sent Jack into shaking hysterics. The knife clattered to the floor. Jack glanced up just in time to grab a gulp of air before Gabriel dunked his blond head under the warm water, turning his laughter into a geyser of bubbles. Blindly grabbing, he got a fistful of Gabriel’s shirt and kicked off the wall, dragging him forward. Gabriel yelped as he entered the water face first.

What ensued was a silly, soggy brawl that didn’t even sort of resemble the calculated blows of their training sessions.

Jack showed up to luncheon very late, half-drowned and with his cheeks aching from laughing so much.

Within the following days, both the trade deal and the marriage arrangement were finalized with little fanfare. A party was thrown to celebrate, of course. The colors of both nations decorated the great hall in waving banners. Barrels of wine were cracked open. Reinhardt was enamored with his gorgeous, quick-witted fiancée, and the pair of them together made for an enviable and striking sight.

For all his dislike of socializing with members of his own court, Jack was as charming as his brother with the visitors from Amari. Observing the revelry from the wings, Gabriel concluded that it wasn’t that Jack didn’t like people so much as he didn’t like his family (with the exception of his siblings, who he clearly adored). In fairness, it would be a challenge for anyone to hold uncomplicated affection for the King and Queen, who were self-aggrandizing sober and belligerently egotistical drunk.

It was all Gabriel could do to keep a look of disgust from crossing his face when the King grabbed the ass of one of the Amari ladies-in-waiting and the Queen glared at the girl instead of her husband.

Gabriel was eagerly anticipating the day they’d be forced to face up to their own hubris.

If only his conviction about Jack could be so unimpeachable.

Ana was muddling things for Gabriel, too. Unlike her husband-to-be, there was no doubt from what he’d witnessed in a few short days that she would be a fine ruler. She was a fast learner with an extraordinary memory for detail and won any party game that required aim. Gabriel wondered who would come out on top in a contest between her and Amélie.

Gabriel had the traitorous thought that it would probably be alright if Reinhardt was king as long as Ana was there to guide him as queen. Or if Jack became king.

He shook himself. He had to put a stop to this thinking now. Olivia was right; these sentimental feelings of his were just going to cause trouble.

With so many strangers present, a few other members of the Talon Guard had been stationed throughout the hall for extra security. Olivia was among them, and although Gabriel had been thrilled at the chance to catch up, he didn’t need her eavesdropping on musings like these. Fortunately, she had to be within a few feet of someone to get access to their mind.

Which explained her gradual rotation around the room, casually passing by as many members of the two nations’ nobility as possible, no doubt harvesting useful information to bring back to Akande.

She passed behind Jack, who was staring into space while one of his uncles talked at him, and stopped mid-step. Her eyes went wide as saucers. All pretense of subtlety fell away, and her gaze flew back and forth between Jack and Gabriel.

Gabriel frowned at her from across the room. With the exception of the rather undignified bath fight, he couldn’t begin to think what she found so interesting in Jack’s head.


	5. Chapter 5

Ana continued to impress Gabriel as a leader. She was gracious and incisive as the situation called for it, and neither attitude rang false. It took her less than a week to memorize the names of every servant and member of the court. And after perusing the library’s atlases proved insufficient, she insisted on personally surveying the country that was to become her home.

Their caravan departed at dawn. Reinhardt, Ana and a few attendants rode cozy in carriages while Gabriel, Jesse, Ashe and a cadre of non-Talon knights trotted along on horseback. Last time Gabriel had ventured so far from the castle stronghold, it had been to go to war. This time, he could appreciate scenery, the vibrant trees and lush fields of flowers in summer colors.

But to his annoyance and distraction, Jack had chosen to join them on his own mare, leaving a bemused Emily to ride in his designated carriage by herself. Had there not been so many people in earshot, Gabriel would have laid into him about playing peasant and about how much more stressful it was to protect him out in the open.

Gabriel’s mood had been sour and snappish for days. Olivia had told Akande how he’d turned down the opportunity to become Ana’s bodyguard and relayed how friendly he’d become with his charge. Livid, Akande slapped Gabriel across the face and tore into him for nearly an hour, uncaring of who saw.

Gabriel managed to remain stoic throughout the ordeal, very aware that Akande had no interest in apologies or excuses. By the end, even Olivia's smug expression had morphed into one of sympathy. She tried to catch up with him afterwards to explain that she’d done it for the greater good, but he coldly shrugged her off. Like his adoptive father, Gabriel too had no interest in excuses. Especially not when his cheek and every bone in his body were burning in humiliation.

Why _had_ he chosen to stay with Jack? Because with Ana, he’d be just another tool in a noble’s arsenal? Because Jack talked to him as though there wasn’t an uncrossable chasm between their social statuses? Because he wanted to read stories? Gabriel sneered at himself. When had he gotten so soft?

Naturally, he’d been terse or silent with Jack since, shutting down conversations before they could move beyond necessary communication.

Jack assumed that Gabriel was embarrassed he’d revealed his childish side in the baths, that his reputation as a bad ass warrior had been tarnished. He would have tried a bit harder to understand what had altered Gabriel's disposition had he not been busy trying to smother what he feared was the beginning of a crush.

Jack’s dreams of late had been almost exclusively warm and bubbly and weightless, with Gabriel’s arms wrapping around his torso, calloused hands on his back pulling him closer, lips roughly kissing him underwater. He woke sweating in arousal and guilt, ashamed at how quickly Vincent was fading from his thoughts and wanly wondering if he’d fall for every man assigned to be his bodyguard. He ought to be embarrassed that he could be so easily pigeonholed.

The distance Gabriel had reestablished between them thus came as a bit of a relief and gave Jack a chance to build emotional barriers of his own. Because there was zero chance his relationship with Gabriel would ever move beyond being friends. Hell, most of the time, they weren’t even that.

It was like an itch Jack couldn’t scratch though. He _knew_ Gabriel didn’t want to talk to him but he couldn’t help riding alongside him, tossing out questions or comments, trying to get a reaction or response. Since Gabriel would never unleash his sharp tongue on the prince in the presence of others, Jack made a point of lagging behind the caravan, allowing his horse to graze on raspberry bushes, to give his guard the chance to snarl at him.

Gabriel resisted, clung to his stubborn silence until the third time Jack slackened his reins.

“Yes, please continue isolating yourself while wearing that useless armor so as not to inconvenience any would-be bandits.”

“I live to serve,” Jack responded in an equally dry tone.

“You and your father do love to say that. Nothing could be farther from the truth.”

“Meaning what?”

“Meaning the illustrious King’s taxation policies are draining the country dry to support your family’s oh-so-luxurious lifestyle.”

“That isn’t true,” Jack argued, angry now. “I’ve seen all our policies. The people aren’t taxed more than they can handle.”

“It might look that way on paper. Do you have any idea how those taxes are exacted from people? How difficult it is for normal people to actually comply?”

“Tax collectors are sworn to an oath of loyalty and honesty.”

Gabriel snorted in derision.

“What good is loyalty if it’s to a dishonest man? Keep riding, Your Highness. You’ll see what I mean.”

Jack scowled and kicked his mare into a canter to catch up with the caravan, reviewing his knowledge of the kingdom’s tax structure. It wasn’t terribly complicated. Families were taxed on how many hectares of land they owned, how many heads of livestock, plus a percentage of their annual income. Nothing struck him as outrageous or exploitative.

The road from the capital passed through a handful of small towns, really just clusters of houses and farms pinned together with a church and/or dry goods store. People gawked as their troupe passed through, children waving and chasing along after them. As the sun hit its peak, they paused in a modest but clean tavern for a midday meal. Reinhardt drew a great deal of attention, of course, his reputation preceding him. He bought ale for and recounted elaborate tales of his bravery to anyone in earshot. Ana vacillated between being amused and being vexed, but Reinhardt’s boasting was entertaining enough to forgive.

Gabriel watched Jack down two pints before splitting off from the table to wander out back. He growled, hurriedly finished his own plate of stew and followed him, wishing for once Jack would just stay put like he was supposed to. He found Jack in the kitchen garden, talking with the tavern keeper’s wife as she hung linens up to dry. As neither paid him any mind, he leaned against the wall to listen.

“Oh, taxes are a right titsuck,” she was saying, accent as coarse as her language. “But tha’s the ropes, hey? Ye pay up. S’just one of life’s big old truths. Taxes’n’death. Comes for us all. Not that I’m complaining, mind you, sir. You ain’t to tell the Lord and Lady in there that I’m nothing but grateful, hey?”

“Don’t worry, ma’am. I’m just asking to sate my own curiosity.”

“You’s what? A knight?”

Gabriel snorted, hooking their attention for a moment. Jack glared, silently warning him off interrupting.

“Not a very good knight,” Jack replied genially.

“No bother about that.” She clucked her tongue and flung another piece of laundry over the line. “Knights are worse than tax collectors, f’you ask me. Least yer tax man knows he’s scum next to Judas. There’s an honest sort of evil in money, hey? Sure, our local fella will threaten to set fire to yer home if you don’t tip him something every time he comes a knocking, but knights have it in their heads that their nastiness is for the greater good.”

“Do royal knights bother you a lot?”

“Eh, once or twice a year, they’ll come yowling for attention.” She shot a nasty scowl at Gabriel. “Yer lot, Talon, are the worst. Swooping in, taking whatever they please. There’s no reasoning with them. Just hide yer gold and hop skip out of their way til they pass on to bully elsewhere.”

Jack and Gabriel looked at each other in shock.

“That doesn’t make sense,” Gabriel insisted. “The Talon Guard are a small force that operate inside the capital unless sent out for critical missions.”

“Tch, you accusing me of being blind or stupid? I know what that seal is,” she spat, pointing at the Talon sigil etched into the shoulder of Gabriel’s pauldron. “There’s dozens of you locusts, roaming about, raiding orphanages and training babies to loot and kill. Collecting extra candy for the King, as we say.”

“The King orders the Talon Guard to raid his own people?” Jack asked. “I don’t believe that.”

“Well, who else tells em what to do, hey? But what do I know? Hell.”

Emily poked her head out of the tavern’s back door to say, “Your Highness, we’re to be off now.”

The woman shrank, stepping away from Jack in fear before abruptly dropping to her knees.

“No, no, it’s okay—” He began.

“Forgive me! I do beg you take no mind of me. Just a silly thing talking on,” she stammered, head down.

Jack sighed and thanked her for her honesty. He and Gabriel shared the same unsettled air as they set off again, the pleasant summer landscape going unnoticed by both of them.

Their country’s second largest city was still bustling and brightly lit when they arrived after dark. Merchant boats bobbed serenely in the wide river that ran through the central square. Obviously, they stayed at the fanciest inn, replete with staff that were obsequious to a ridiculous degree, even to Gabriel.

In their room, Jack sat on his narrow bed and stared at the clouds out the window. His hair glowed warm in the light from the lone candle on the nightstand.

Gabriel removed his boots and pieces of armor, eyes lingering on the insignia, thoughts whirling nonstop.

“Do you think she was telling the truth?” Jack asked.

“That dumb peasant? Probably saw a Talon sigil once and now thinks she sees one every time she spots a black leather armor piece,” Gabriel scoffed.

“She sounded like she knew what she was talking about.”

“Well, it wouldn’t surprise me if the King had an army of bandits working in the shadow of his army of tax collectors.”

“My father would _never_ sanction the Talon Guard’s raids.”

“It’s _not_ Talon doing the raids. They’re imposters. Like I said, the Guard only operates in the capital.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Unwelcome doubt burrowed inside him though. Akande was a master of secret agendas and would go to any length if it meant freedom from the tyrannical monarchy. It wasn’t inconceivable that he had entered into some sort of agreement with the country’s criminal underbelly. Why though? To convince the public that the King was evil? Wasn’t the King already evil? As always, Gabriel heard Akande’s voice reminding him that strategizing wasn’t his strength. There was probably some underlying long-term goal that Gabriel couldn’t see.

“You were wrong about the taxation being a problem though,” Jack was saying. “The tavern owner’s wife said people managed fine. It’s the opportunistic knights that are the problem.”

“Knights. Tax collectors. Still all the King’s men.”

“And they should be held accountable for their actions. Still, my father would never systematically steal from his own people. He’s a bastard, but he’s not that much of a bastard.”

Unwilling to argue when he believed so thoroughly that Jack was wrong, Gabriel rolled his eyes and sprawled out on top of his bedcovers, tucking his hands behind his head.

“He’s _not_ ,” Jack insisted. “And what would be the point anyway? If he wanted more money, he could just raise the tax rates. There’s literally no reason to break the law if you _are_ the law.”

“Who says people do evil deeds for profit alone? Some people like the thrill of it.”

Even when he was furious with the guard, Jack couldn’t help but appreciate the bulge of his biceps and thighs, the strong lines of his silhouette and the plane of his hard stomach. Scowling, Jack lay down with his back to him, trying to wrangle his imagination away from what it would feel like to curl into that broad chest and be held by those arms.

The thought that he could order Gabriel into his bed sat ugly and unwanted in the back of his mind. It was enough to keep his erection at bay. Sleeping in such close quarters, Jack anticipated his erotic dreams would kick their intensity up a notch, but instead of warm bathwater, he found himself in a maze of stone walls, cold and quiet, fear clogging his throat.

“ _Íocfaidh tú a fhiach deiridh_ ,” sang a voice like cold river water.

Sudden burning. Fire engulfed his clothes. Claws across his face left two long deep slices and he clutched at his face with a howl. Pain and blood blinded him. Someone grabbed his shoulders, he struck out and only when a firm grip caught his fist did Jack realize he was sitting up in bed, gasping in air, Gabriel staring at him in wide-eyed concern.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Íocfaidh tú a fhiach deiridh." = "You will pay his final debt."


	6. Chapter 6

Jack ran his hands over his face again and again, barely able to believe it was smooth and unbroken. The attack in his dream, the deep pain, had felt so real. Judging by the amount the candle had burned down, he’d only been asleep for two hours. Gabriel had still been awake, rereading his anthology of myths in the low light, before he leapt up to shake Jack out of his nightmare.

“Thought you were reading that library book you brought,” the prince said a few minutes after his breathing stuttered back to normal.

“A man can’t read two books at the same time?”

Too wrung out to battle through Gabriel’s retorts, Jack shrugged and returned to staring at the wall, exhausted but uninterested in returning to sleep. After a minute, Gabriel sighed and closed the thick book.

“I come back to these stories any time I need to settle my head. Had this thing since I was a kid.”

“Did Ogundimu give it to you?”

“No. My real father did. It belonged to my grandmother originally.”

“It’s nice you can stay connected to them that way,” Jack said, melancholic smile playing over his lips. “It’s funny. I have more stuff than I know what to do with but none of it really matters. All the old, treasured heirlooms either go to Rein as the future regent or towards Angela’s dowry. It’s a bourgeois complaint to have, I know. Boo hoo, none of my gold is special. Still, though, sometimes I wish… Never mind. What happened to your father?”

Gabriel hesitated, running his thumb back and forth over the faded cover of the anthology before answering.

“When I was five, he was executed by the King for a crime he didn’t commit." 

Jack went rigid in his bed and gave Gabriel a horrified stare. Then, without a word, he stood, jammed his feet into his slippers and walked straight out of the room.

“Jack—Wait!”

Gabriel swore as he crammed his feet into his unlaced boots, snatched up the leather belt with his knife holsters and stumbled after him. Jack’s stride didn’t break as he descended the staircase and walked out into the street. The lamps had already been extinguished for the night. It would have been pitch black if it wasn’t for the full moon. Jack’s hair glowed silver in the light, like a goddamn beacon, Gabriel groused, finally getting his belt on over the thin underclothes he wore to bed.

The blond was already on the wide stone bridge by the time Gabriel caught him by the arm and yanked him around. 

“What the fuck? You looking to get murdered? You _know_ it would be my head if anything happened to you.”

Eyes low, Jack jerked out of his hold and leaned over the granite wall. The river shushed below, oily and reflective. Gabriel scanned the bridge, but aside from a drunkard passed out at the far end, they were alone.

“I’m so sorry,” Jack said, his voice a defeated rasp.

Gabriel knew he wasn’t talking about dragging them out for a midnight stroll.

“I’m so stupid for not figuring it out. You’re Renato Reyes’ son. My father still boasts about catching him, how it was his own cleverness that rooted out the conspiracy, how he saved his whole family even though everyone knows he’s done nothing but sit on his ass for years. The story never really made sense to me – why would the Talon Commander with a spotless reputation suddenly decide to turn on the throne for no reason? I thought it was because Father’s ego got in the way of his plotlines, but…”

Hunched into himself, Jack stared dully into the water. 

This sympathetic reaction was unexpected, but Gabriel nevertheless decided against telling Jack that it was the King himself that had framed his father. Slander was slander. Even if Jack didn’t throw him in prison for it, the prince’s compassion would evaporate, and Gabriel found himself reluctant to let that happen.

“How can you even stand being around me?” Jack asked.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

Saying that aloud made it truer for Gabriel. It really wasn’t Jack’s fault, was it? You couldn’t choose your parents; you could only choose whether to follow in their footsteps or not, and Jack had done everything in his power to pull away from his parents’ example. Resenting Jack for the King's actions, especially when Jack would never imitate them, was a dead end of an emotion. It was hard to stick to anger once it was exposed as groundless and aimless. Which was a problem, because if Gabriel didn’t hate Jack, then there was nothing stopping him from liking the prince.

Well, besides Talon’s looming rebellion, which would inevitably pit them against each other.

The political conflict on the horizon felt so far removed from this breezy summer night though. Standing there in pajamas, they were no longer prince and guard, royal and common. They were just two people on a bridge, just Jack and Gabriel. And the man in front of him wasn’t his enemy. Gabriel sensed that on a cellular level.

He sighed and leaned his back against the wall by Jack’s side, close enough to feel the heat from one another.

“Don’t beat yourself up about it. There’s nothing you can do.” When Jack didn’t respond, he added: “Moon’s so full, you can only see the biggest stars.”

The comment had the effect he’d hoped it would. Jack finally lifted his gaze up. Gabriel caught a glimpse of unshed tears and a startling feeling of gratitude gushed through him. That someone cared enough about him to be so upset on his behalf was…new. Though Jesse and Olivia were practically his siblings, they’d all been raised by Akande and the Talon Guard, taught the importance of armor inside and out, and were prepared to watch each other fall on the battlefield. Not exactly the ideal breeding ground for genuine expressions of affection.

“Ursa Major’s upside down,” Jack said after a long minute.

“Ursa what?” Gabriel frowned at the sky.

“The Big Dipper.”

“I’m guessing the zigzag has a proper name, too?”

“Cassiopeia. I thought you knew how to navigate by the stars.”

“I do.” Gabriel pointed. “The North Star is always smack in between the Dipper and the zigzag. And those three stars there are always moving westward, so if you stay put and pay attention for a few minutes, you can sort out where you are no problem. Never needed their names for that. ”

“Meanwhile, I can identify all the constellations but can’t use them to get anywhere. Typical,” Jack huffed.

“Wouldn’t mind learning their actual names. I’ll trade you a navigation lesson.”

“Why are you being nice to me?”

“Because you moping about something you aren’t responsible for and can’t do anything about is a waste of time. If you want to rectify something, we should focus on the information the tavern keeper’s wife gave us.”

 _We?_ Jack nearly asked. Instead, he straightened up to better face the other man and considered the conundrum in front of them.

“Okay... Let’s say, hypothetically, everything she said is true,” he said. “Father ordered Talon to raid towns. What could we even do about it?”

“Surely, Reinhardt could be convinced to clean things up once he takes over.”

“Of course. But there is another possibility we can’t ignore. What if Talon’s not operating under King’s orders?”

“You mean: what if Akande or one of his lieutenants started this?”

“Well, or they could be imposters, like you said.”

Gabriel sighed and took a moment to scan up and down the bridge in order to collect his thoughts. He didn’t like the facts but he couldn’t deny them.

“If the woman’s right and they are wearing Talon armor, it would be nearly impossible for them to be imposters,” he admitted. “One woman, Brigitte Lindholm, designed and created all our pieces, and her workshop is located in the second ring.”

“I know of her. She doesn’t seem the type to agree to make counterfeit uniforms for people.”

“See what I’m saying?”

“So, we have to assume the bands of raiders are real Talon.”

“Main question is: who’s giving the orders?”

“Think Father or Ogundimu would just tell us if we asked?” Jack cracked, a small smile returning to his face.

“Absolutely,” Gabriel responded, the word dripping with sarcasm. Then, after a beat: “We’re going to need to do more reconnaissance. We don’t even know the scope of this issue.”

“How do we gather more information on this without tipping off either the King or the Talon Commander?”

“Carefully. Very carefully.”

Olivia’s smug smirk flashed in Gabriel’s mind. He’d have no choice but to see her as infrequently as possible and to keep his mind on other things when he couldn’t avoid her. If he pulled this off though, managed to find evidence that the King was plundering and pillaging his own country, it would be easier to unstick him from the throne. It wouldn’t be nearly as climactic as their planned revolution; but it might avoid unnecessary bloodshed.

Despite the gravity of their project, a little flame of happiness burned inside Jack at the chance to work alongside Gabriel towards a shared goal. He doubted his father was behind all this, not because of his father’s strong character but because of his lackluster capabilities. Fatigue blocked him from thinking too hard about the task ahead of them though. They’d strategize more tomorrow.

The silence that hung around them was comfortable, both their gazes lost in the moon above.

A line of verse fell out of Gabriel’s mouth before he could stop himself:

“ _Awed by her splendor / Stars near the lovely / moon cover their own / bright faces_.”

“ _When she / is roundest and lights / earth with her silver_ ,” Jack finished, giving Gabriel a inscrutable look. “Wouldn’t have taken you to be a fan of Sappho.”

Gabriel chuckled, self-conscious, and was again struck by how genuine Jack was in his affection, how nice it was in comparison to his other friends. When the blond smiled at him, he meant every tooth. 

“Well, you find all kinds of things in a library." Gabriel gave him a playful shove. "C’mon, back to bed. As romantic as this is, I would like some sleep tonight.”

Jack laughed though the joke speared awfully close to his true feelings. Fortunately, the night concealed his fierce blush. He wondered if Gabriel knew the rumors of Sappho’s sexual relationships with women, what he thought of it, if it made him think about the possibility of two men together. But it was obvious Gabriel only viewed them as friends, and while that was leagues better than Gabriel trying to enforce their class differences, Jack couldn’t help a tiny wish for more.

Sprawled on his bed again, Gabriel convinced himself that he could put aside his emotions when the time came. No matter how pleasant a diversion Jack’s friendship was, he would not forget his goal. He would avenge his father.

But, just… Maybe, he could find a way to do it without harming Jack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sappho's poem has been translated from the original Greek in a million different ways, but I used Mary Barnard's version.


	7. Chapter 7

Gabriel’s 23rd birthday was celebrated in the kitchen with honeyed wine, raspberry cakes and card games that lasted nearly until dawn. When spring rolled around, Jack desperately wished he could celebrate his birthday the same way, but he was turning 20 this year, which meant a ball. It would be grand and dull and mainly a way for the King and Queen to show off. There hadn’t been an excuse for a gala this big since Reinhardt and Ana’s wedding. Invitations were sent to all the noble houses from their own country and nearby nations.

“An elaborate and expensive meat market,” Jack grumbled that morning over breakfast. “It’s not a party for me. It’s an auction to sell me to the highest bidder.”

“I’ve got something that might brighten your mood,” Gabriel said after Emily left with the empty tray. “Get your hooded cloak.”

A grey sky hung low, threatening rain to go with the cold winds, but Jack was too curious about where Gabriel was leading him to care. Their horses kept up a steady trot as they passed through the castle grounds and the surrounding aristocratic borough until they reached a small shop in the outer ring. The Lindholm seal hung above the door.

Brigitte greeted them with bright eyes and vocal enthusiasm. Minutes later, Jack found himself being fitted with several pieces of armor, all beautiful quality and unlike any design he’d seen before. High boots, forearm guards and gloves – all crafted out of fine leather rendered in a rich shade of blue and masterfully inlaid with steel. A pauldron for each shoulder, made flexible by adjustable straps and each bearing the circular sign of his family in gold and onyx. Thanks to a clever hidden layer of silk, they shifted over the breastplate seamlessly when he moved.

Most interesting was the long coat, which matched the armor on his arms so well that an observer wouldn’t notice it was sleeveless. Nor would they notice the layer of steel stitched into the collar and the back. It all fit perfectly. Every piece sat light on his frame and wouldn’t interfere with his main advantage in a fight: his speed.

Jack noted how elements of the armor resembled Gabriel’s own black leather Talon gear. And that the guard looked far too pleased with himself. Jack caught his eyes in the mirror and beamed.

“You designed all this. For me.”

“I’m just making things easier on myself,” Gabriel deflected. “Proper armor means you’re less likely to die.”

“ _Thank you,_ ” the prince said, so genuinely heartfelt and happy that Gabriel flushed.

Even an afternoon of being primped, groomed and dressed for the ball couldn’t dampen Jack’s mood after that.

The great hall was decked out in gold ornaments and satin banners and giant bouquets of fresh flowers. At the head of the room sat a row of raised thrones, each more elaborate than the last. The most ornate was occupied by the fat King, already red-faced from mulled wine. On either side sat the Queen, Reinhardt, Ana and Angela, now old enough for her own. Jack’s throne was empty. As it was his party, it was his duty to stand and greet the parade of honored guests, which included every unmarried female aristocrat for 100 miles lavishly trussed up in a bid to attract the eligible prince's attention.

“Haven’t seen this many tits since I visited the royal aviary,” Lena cracked, drawing a low laugh from Gabriel.

The two of them stood in the shadows off to the side of the noble dais, Gabriel’s leather and armor polished to a shine, Lena’s uniform pressed and spotless. A small gesture from Ana and Lena zipped to her, kneeling respectfully to receive whatever message she was tasked to carry, likely some instruction for the wet nurse minding Fareeha in her chambers.

Seated to Ana’s right and already a refined lady at 11-years-old, Angela observed the exchange with interest. Within months of the incumbent queen’s arrival, Angela had become her shadow, and the birth of Fareeha a year ago had only increased her adoration of the Amari woman. To her mother’s dismay, Angela had also taken a keen interest in the work of the physician who assisted with the birth and could frequently be found pestering Baptiste with all manner of questions about the human body.

The amount of time the princess spent in the library rivaled Gabriel. Every time the guard caught sight of her glued to a text on anatomy, a pang of affection and guilt pierced him. A lock of her hair had paid the first of the three debts he owed Moira. That the witch had yet to call on him to pay the other two made Gabriel anxious whenever he thought about it. What if she asked for something gruesome? Jack’s head on a platter or Ana’s baby girl? Gabriel didn’t know what the consequences would be if he refused one of her requests. When she’d bestowed his abilities on him, it hadn’t seemed relevant to ask. All Gabriel had cared about was revenge. Now, things were murkier.

Over the past three years, his and Jack’s careful, quiet investigation into who was commanding Talon squads to rob innocent civilians and why had turned up frustratingly little. The only time Akande left the capital’s inner ring was to accompany the King, and besides periodic hunting trips to the nearby countryside, the King had only ventured out of the city twice. Which meant couriers and messenger pigeons must be delivering the orders to the roving squads. Even if they intercepted these communications, it was unlikely they'd be able to trace it back to the sender.

In the end, Jack and Gabriel concluded that the answers they were looking for couldn’t be found in the castle. However, their excursions were always planned in advance and chaperoned, and not once did they encounter a roving band of Talon while they traveled. It couldn’t be a coincidence, but whether this was a design to keep the prince unaware or the guard, neither could say. Had various townspeople not corroborated the tavern keeper’s wife’s story, Gabriel would have written it all off as a lie.

Several days ago, in the privacy of Jack’s rooms, they’d decided a spontaneous trip with no set destinations and only a small cadre of attendants was their best chance at surprising a rogue Talon faction in action. Maybe then they could finally find the truth.

Gabriel’s attention returned to Jack and he resisted the urge to smirk. The blond prince greeted every guest on autopilot, eyes glazed with barely concealed boredom. His disinterest didn’t deter most of his would-be suitors though and it wasn’t hard to see why.

No longer the gangly 16-year-old Gabriel had brought to his knees, Jack had caught up to Gabriel in height and nearly matched him in bulk, though he’d always be leaner. He wore his modest gold crown with his head held high. The deep blue of his velvet cloak turned his eyes into sapphires, and a strong sense of confidence now bolstered his deep voice and attractive features. He shone.

Gabriel surveyed the gaudy sea of nobility with scorn. Not one of them deserved him.

A murmur rippled through the crowd as the royal family of Shimada approached, led by Emperor Sojiro himself. He and his two sons were dressed splendidly. Elaborate dragons were embroidered in silk thread on their tunics, gold for the father, blue for the eldest son, and green for the younger.

They were flanked not only by their own attendants but by Jesse and Ashe, who both wore new black hats with their polished Talon uniforms. Most people assumed the twins' headwear was some sort of custom from a distant home country, but Gabriel knew full well it was just their odd fashion sense. They had been assigned to escort the Shimada royal family from the eastern border to the palace and to be on hand during the course of their stay.

Also part of the contingent was a lovely, nervous young woman with an enormous bosom, hoisted up and put on display by her pale blue gown. Every man’s eyes, Gabriel’s included, followed her with less-than-innocent interest and she blushed a deep, embarrassed red. The royal announcer introduced her as Lady Mei of the House of Zhou, a branch of the imperial family. Gabriel had to give Jack credit for his self-control. His gaze remained steady on the lady’s face as he greeted her.

As the guests had all been announced, platters of exquisite food were set on the long tables along with great jugs of wine. Musicians played rousing, upbeat songs that drew people to the dance floor. The great hall grew noisier and noisier as the night unfolded. This was normally the point where Jack snagged Gabriel and they escaped the cacophonous revelry for the quiet of their beds, but it wouldn’t do for the prince to leave his own party too early. Especially since he was meant to be browsing for a bride.

The Shimada heir had no such obligation. His lips in a thin line, he bid Jack and the King good night with a regal bow and then strode out of the room, followed by a stoic Jesse. Earlier that day, while Gabriel and the twins scarfed down a quick lunch in the kitchen, Jesse had complained endlessly about Hanzo’s uptight, demanding nature. It made Gabriel proud to see how well he retained his composure in public. He’d also grown up in the past few years.

Ana was suddenly at Gabriel’s side.

“Come. Escort me to my rooms. Amélie will take over your post.”

Confused as to why Ana would want to switch bodyguards, Gabriel nevertheless bowed his head in consent and held out his arm for her to take. The cool air of the corridors chilled them both, though the quiet was refreshing. Merry but muted sounds from the festival in the castle’s courtyard trickled in through the glass windows.

“Still too fond of Jack to leave him?”

Ana had long deduced that respect for the King’s orders was the absolute last reason Gabriel remained Jack’s protector. But it was odd that she was bringing this up now.

“He’s an easy man to be loyal to,” Gabriel replied cautiously.

“Easy on the eyes, too.”

“Only your husband and the blind could disagree with you.”

She laughed brightly, slowing their pace so they had more time to speak.

“You’re so much more fun to talk to than Amélie.”

“But I wouldn’t be nearly as much competition in those games of archery you love so much.”

A thunk sounded from a small room used to store linens, buckets and soap.

“Did you hear that?” Ana asked, more curious than afraid.

Gabriel had. After she assured him she was perfectly capable of waiting in an empty corridor for a minute while he checked it out, he slid into wraith form and slipped noiselessly under the closed door. It was dark. The only light came from the sliver of starry sky visible through a small window.

Gabriel’s vision was drastically reduced in this state, limited to outlines and motion. He could make out movement near a narrow table in the corner, so positioned himself behind the towers of stacked sheets opposite before returning to his regular shape. But even then, it took his eyes several seconds to process what they were seeing. And his brain even longer than that.

Jesse’s beloved hat lay on the floor, forgotten, as he kissed Hanzo forcefully enough to back him into the table. The regent groaned and buried his hands in Jesse’s thick hair, kissing back with equal fervor. When the young guard urged him onto the tabletop, Hanzo eagerly parted his thighs.

For a second, Gabriel assumed Jesse had been commanded to meet the Shimada royal’s needs no matter how unorthodox and felt a pang of anger on his friend’s behalf. But this wasn’t Jesse performing an act he’d been ordered to do; that was genuine desire grinding his hips forward.

Gabriel felt his face heat up, mortified to have caught Jesse in such a private moment and at a loss as to how to process that it was with a man. And a man Jesse supposedly hated. Gabriel returned to wraith form and lingered in the dulled world of the shadows to calm himself before reappearing in front of Ana.

“Find anything interesting?” She asked, lips tipping up in a coy smile.

“I presume I found exactly what you wanted me to,” Gabriel retorted shrewdly, leading her away by the arm. “What I don’t understand is why.”

She freed herself from his grip with another laugh and kept pace with his angry gait.

“I make it a point to learn the bedfellows of as many people around me as possible. Gives one great insight into their character, not only their desires but their weaknesses. And often the weaknesses of those they’re with as well.”

“I formally request that Her Ladyship get to the damn point.”

“Should our jousting lovebirds be discovered, what do you think would happen?”

“The noble would be shamed, but as long as he married well and sired sons, he’d be forgiven his deviances. The guard would be exiled at best and executed at worst.”

“Something to think about.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

To his confusion, she threw a sharp scowl his way. Before he could say anything else, they turned a corner and were within earshot of the two guards posted at the entrance to her chambers. She dismissed him without a glance and vanished inside.


	8. Chapter 8

Gabriel hated how quickly Ana could flip between being his friend and being his superior. Jack only ever treated him as a subject when they were in front of others, since to do otherwise would be strange, and he was never haughty about it. But then, Jack’s compulsion to treat everyone he met with dignity was exceptional. A lot about Jack was exceptional. Not that Jack thought so.

Retracing the route down to the ballroom, Gabriel couldn’t help revisiting the scene he’d witnessed in the storage room. Until now, he hadn’t really believed in rumors of men who wanted to sleep with other men. No, that wasn’t quite true. He knew plenty of men who’d fuck just about anything. What had taken him by complete surprise was the passion with which Jesse and Hanzo kissed. It wasn’t just some rutting to satisfy a lust. They _wanted_ each other.

It had never occurred to Gabriel that a man could crave that kind of intimacy with another man. And what of it? Life was cruel. You had to hold fast to whatever joy you could find. However, what did concern him was the risk this dalliance posed to Jesse. Ana had been right to draw Gabriel’s attention to it. He’d have to pull the younger guard aside at the Talon meeting next week.

The ball was still lively and loud when he returned. To his surprise, Jack was dancing in the thick of the crowd, whirling Lady Mei around in a stiff waltz. Gabriel would never understand how someone so graceful in combat could so thoroughly fail to follow a melody. Mei didn’t seem to mind though. In fact, she looked grateful, far more at ease than during her entrance. While Gabriel made his way to Amélie to relieve her of her post, he heard more than a few crass remarks from Jack’s cousins, who were also hoping to make matches at this ball, grumbles about Jack getting the pick of the litter and how they’d give anything to get close to a pair of tits like that.

Gabriel scanned the drunken sea of aristocracy for any suspicious activity. Jack glanced at him over Mei’s bare shoulder, and he responded with a lascivious run of his tongue over his teeth and a pointed look at the lady’s backside. Flustered, the prince just barely avoided crushing Mei’s foot on his next step. Gabriel chuckled to himself, pleased that no matter how confident and composed Jack had become, Gabriel could still bring that pink to his cheeks.

And suddenly it was Jack being backed into the wall of the storage room, Jack’s thighs hitching up to wrap around his waist, Jack needily groaning into his mouth.

Gabriel forgot to breathe. When he finally gasped in an inhale, he choked on his own saliva and spent a world-altering 30 seconds coughing like an idiot, unable to reverse the direction of this thoughts even though he was pretty damn sure he desired women. He’d slept with them, enjoyed it, looked forward to doing it again. There was no doubt there. To test himself, he pictured Lady Mei naked and blushing, all those curves on display, and felt his dick stiffen in response.

But the vision of Jack naked and blushing, beaming at him like he had in Brigitte’s earlier, made him harder still. The ball in all its noise and action faded. Gabriel didn’t understand how it could all continue as though nothing had happened. As though he hadn’t just been obliterated by the realization that he desired a man. A man he could never have. Not in a million years.

Lying awake in his bed, Gabriel stared at the ceiling, dissecting the longing that had taken hold of him. And the impossibility of it. He imagined kissing Jack the way he’d kiss a woman, drinking him in, threading his fingers through that blond hair. He imagined stroking over the soft skin of the prince’s waist, the hard muscles of his chest, the tender pulse in his neck. He imagined Jack reeling back in shock and regretfully dismissing him from his post, how Akande and Talon would strip him of his duties and abandon him soon after.

Gabriel sighed, heartsick.

 _Never reveal what you love,_ he reminded himself. _It’ll only get you hurt._

Unknown to him, just a few feet away Jack was daydreaming about waltzing in his arms. Over the past three years, his crush on his guard had settled into a warm and cozy constant in the back of his mind, a pleasant sort of limbo. If he dwelled too deeply on it, it cut him into pieces, so he tried his hardest to just enjoy Gabriel’s company and to stamp down the raw yearning for more. Concerted effort was devoted into making sure none of his actions betrayed his desire. He didn’t think he could bear it if his mother banished Gabriel too. Or worse, if Gabriel learned of his feelings and left because of them.

The next morning unrolled like any other, from Emily’s perspective anyway.

She brought the breakfast tray and assisted Jack in dressing for the day. Chewing through an apple, Gabriel teased the prince about his dancing. Jack groaned about the King summoning him to luncheon and requested his bodyguard allow any would-be assassins to poison him. As punishment for that joke, Gabriel threatened to make him dodge arrows in training that afternoon. With a laugh, Jack retorted that that would be a good test of his new armor.

Neither gave a single hint of the yearning that gnawed them from the inside out.

The contingent from Shimada joined the midday meal as honored guests of the royal family, so the décor and food were needlessly lavish. Jewels glinted from the necks and shoulders of all present, fastening fine wool in place or complementing fur-trimmed satin. Plenty of wine was served, as always, and several goblets of it readily vanished into the King’s gullet.

Though knowing he had no right, Gabriel felt pricks of jealousy at how Lady Mei occupied Jack’s attention. Seated next to each other, the two kept up an easy conversation, to the Queen's visible pleasure. To distract himself, Gabriel scrutinized Jesse from across the room, wanting to smack him for being so obvious. The young guard was practically glowing with joy and was having a hard time keeping his eyes off Hanzo. While Hanzo wasn’t any better, it wasn’t he who’d suffer the consequences if they were caught, even though he was the one due to wed the princess of Vishkar within a year.

Curious, Gabriel wondered how they’d even dared become lovers, how they’d crossed the line, who stepped over it first. Doubtless the young lord had the arrogance to reach out and take what he wanted, but Jesse was foolish enough to do the same regardless of the risk.

“A wedding then!” The King cried, loud with wine. “Nothing like a marriage pact to settle a trade agreement.”

“Indeed,” Emperor Sojiro replied evenly, though Gabriel noticed how pinched his smile was. “Lady Mei seems quite taken with your—”

“Nonsense! For an alliance like this, we’ll have my daughter betrothed to your young lad. A fine match. Surely, you agree?”

A stunned silence answered him. Even the Queen blinked at the King, flabbergasted. To pass over Jack and instead barter off Angela not only broke with tradition, but was blatant insult, dismissing Jack’s worth to the kingdom as well as Mei’s. Plus, it put Sojiro in an awkward spot, forcing him to decide the fate of his second son with no warning. Not that it was a true choice. To refuse would be to dismantle their nations’ entire alliance, which would hit the economy of Shimada harder. Like a spoiled child demanding the biggest toy, the King wasn’t going to settle for linking one of his children to a noblewoman when he could snag a prince instead.

Gabriel grit his teeth and exhaled hotly through his nose.

“Yes, well, I suppose they are of similar age,” Sojiro conceded reluctantly.

“Smashing!” Reinhardt bellowed, raising his goblet.

The Queen clapped her hands and cried, “Angie, my pet, how exciting!”

Angela and Genji goggled at each other. When they woke up that morning, neither child would have guessed in a million years that they’d be engaged before they finished lunch. The princess turned alarmed eyes on Ana, who gave her a comforting pat on the head.

If Jack was upset about his thwarted engagement or the insult to his value, he didn’t show it.

“If I may, Father. Since Lady Mei and I won’t be getting betrothed, could I propose a different sort of collaboration?”

“What?” The King asked with an impatient sigh.

“The lady holds a position of honor in the Shimada Science Guild. I think our own scholars would have much to learn from her, specifically pertaining to the behavior of clouds and—”

The King’s rude laughter interrupted him.

“And to think, Sojiro, you considered resting the strength of our great alliance on this idiot boy’s shoulders. Dodged a blow there, eh? Female scholars, hah! John, a woman like that has better things to teach a man than how to gawp at the sky. Unless of course you’re gawping up because she’s on top.”

He sent Mei, or more specifically her breasts, a perverse grin. Red-faced, Mei kept her eyes on her plate to hide her humiliated tears. Sojiro and Hanzo wore identical expressions of pure ice.

“Classy as always, Father,” Jack said with a snarl. “You have no right to sneer at any scholar. You can’t even count your children in the proper order.”

“I can arrange them in order of importance with no trouble. You’re fourth, after Reinhardt, Angela and my dogs.”

“You can do better than that. Why not disown me completely? I’d welcome any arrangement that increases the distance between us.”

“You’re not to say that, Jackie!” The Queen cried.

“Enough!” The King bellowed. “Another word from you and it’ll be Angela I disown.”

Shaking with anger, Jack shut his mouth and glared at his father in utter disgust. The King laughed and swigged the remains of his wine.

“Still soft as a crippled kitten. I’d hoped all that combat training would have helped you find your balls, but here you are still prioritizing women and children above your own honor.”

Gabriel, barely resisting throwing one of his knives into the King’s forehead, resolved to _never_ call Jack soft ever again.

“That reminds me,” the King said with a belch. “Angela, I’ve been told you’re spending all your spare hours in the library. Is that true?”

“Yes,” Angela replied in a tiny voice.  
  
“I don’t see what—” Ana began.

“Ana,” Reinhardt warned. “Now is not the time.”

Ana scowled but held her tongue.

“Why?” The King demanded.

To both Jack and Gabriel’s overwhelming pride, Angela gave the King a sweet smile and lied through her teeth.

“I just like the fairytales. So many wonderful songs and stories about brave knights and beautiful princesses. The drawings are dreamy. Oh! And there are some books on dressmaking that are ever so helpful for improving my own needlework.”

“There’s no need for you to fill your head with rot like fairytales. And surely the sewing mistress’s lessons are enough. A library’s no place for a girl.”

“As you say, Father.”

There was a devious edge to the princess’s apparent docility, but her parents, never looking for it, never noticed it. Angela was smart enough to realize challenging the King’s wishes was futile. More than that, it was unnecessary. Jack would bring her any library book she asked for.

Gabriel thought with dark satisfaction that when he finally slit that blundering drunkard of a King’s throat, he’d be doing it to free Jack and Angela as much as to avenge his father.

He just hoped that when the time came, they’d understand that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look at that, the Mutual Pining tag has been added.


	9. Chapter 9

Once his body and mind had glommed onto the fact that all he wanted to do was kiss every square inch of Jack, Gabriel seemed unable to think about anything else. He kept adding new items to the list of things he loved about the prince. His underhanded wit, which he aimed at himself as much as his friends. The bashful way he recommended books to Gabriel. His sly smile when he won at cards. The dozen shades of blue in his eyes.

It struck him that he’d unconsciously chosen to have Jack’s armor enameled in rich blue because it brought out those shades. Though Gabriel was acting as sappy as any suitor, offering fresh-picked fruit and trying to make him laugh, he knew Jack would never see these as anything more than tokens of friendship. Deep, real friendship. Friendship they both treasured. But just friendship.

Wishing for more was a distracting and detrimental use of his time but Gabriel couldn’t bring himself to stop. By necessity, he became very good at feigning utter boredom while Jack was in the baths. The prince didn’t linger in the water as long as he used to, instead insisted on a quick and efficient scrubbing. Gabriel had barely ten minutes to sneak glances at the ridges of Jack’s abs and the curve of his ass and the sweet flush of his heated skin. The tutoring sessions in the library offered him a better chance to contemplate his prince, secretly peering at him over a book or from the second floor while Jack devoted his intense focus to the text and equations Siebren laid out.

Gabriel could barely read more than a few lines at a time. No matter what novel he picked up, he found himself imagining every close male friendship as a same sex romance and inevitably lost the plot somewhere. Every love poem led to daydreams of how to recite it to Jack. Gabriel took to trailing through the shelves of histories, biographies and records of royal ancestors, hoping non-fiction might prove more diverting. These tomes were crammed in tight and sported a thick layer of dust, clearly of little interest to most of the castle’s residents.

He said ‘most’ because someone else’s fingerprints were smudged along the leather spines, only several weeks old. Curious, he tracked them to a dim, poorly organized corner in the very back until they ended at the journal of a duke from a century ago. Duke Morris. Gabriel had never heard of him. If the marks surrounding the journal were anything to go by, it had been withdrawn and returned multiple times. He plucked it from its shelf, opened to a random page, read three sentences and immediately slammed it shut.

His heart was pounding so hard, Gabriel was sure Jack and Siebren on the far side of the library could hear it.

Gabriel hadn’t rejected the new brand of desire plaguing him, but he hadn’t ever envisioned it having a context in the real world either. No context beyond furtive groping in poorly-lit closets anyway. But this was… This was… He stood frozen in place for a few seconds, swallowed slowly and reopened it.

_One could say the need for oils to enable the act makes it unnatural, and perhaps there’s an argument there, but is there not a distinct pleasure in viewing the night sky from a telescope instead of our measly eyes? And my feelings may be damned as unnatural but they unfurl in my heart and soul and manhood as naturally as anything. If two men could bear a child together and continue whatever bloodline required continuing, I doubt society would be so quick to damn. Alas, people will always condemn as sinful any act or practice that benefits others but not themselves._

The passage stuck fast in his mind, its rationale as clear as a bell. And Duke Morris went on. Paragraphs and pages were devoted to picking apart the flimsy underpinnings of social norms and describing in explicit eloquence his sexual adventures with men. In neat handwriting, he compared the taste of one lover’s seed to another’s, recorded the breathy whine one partner made when he was completely filled, and noted that while it was much easier to locate the sweet spot with one’s fingers, there was nothing so perfect as watching a lover squirm in mindless ecstasy impaled on one’s cock.

Before long, Gabriel’s face was burning hot and his dick was straining against the laces of his black wool breeches. Knowing he wouldn’t be able to read the whole journal today (and borrowing it was out of the question), he gingerly replaced it on the shelf in an attempt to give himself enough time to cool down before Jack’s lesson ended.

It wasn’t easy.

Gabriel had replayed the scene from the storage room a million times, replacing Jesse with himself and Hanzo with Jack. But his fantasies always blurred into vague grinding, hands down each other’s trousers, Jack sucking his cock — the details of exactly how or what happened next had dissolved in the haze of desire. And now, suddenly, he found himself with vivid in-depth guidelines for dozens of delicious things that he and Jack could do to each other.

And of course, he was now frantically wondering who else had found and read the journal. The trail of fingerprints suggested whoever it was had been searching for it specifically. His mind leapt to Jack. Surely no one else would have found a text so deep in the stacks on the library’s second floor. But that was probably just wishful thinking on his part.

Gabriel recalled how fondly Jack had looked at Lady Mei, how he endeavored to spend more time with her even if they weren’t to be engaged, how he…hadn’t once noticed her tits. Gabriel frowned. He and Jack had spoken in crass enough terms about the wenches and maids they’d taken to bed, but only complete idiots believed everything a man said about his sex life. He’d assumed that Jack, out of politeness, waited until Gabriel was out at a meeting or off on an errand to have his trysts. What if he wasn’t though? What if he wasn’t interested in women’s bodies at all?

Well, so what? There was no shortage of men who disliked intimacy for one reason or another. Didn’t automatically mean the prince wanted to bed men.

It was all Gabriel could do to keep his theories and desires under control while he accompanied Jack to luncheon and then to Reinhardt’s chambers. Gabriel joined the members of the elder prince’s personal guard in a loose formation outside the door, where they remained for the better part of two hours.

“Well, now, Gabriel, what are you doing out here?” Ana asked.

She was wearing an elegant but simple emerald green dress and was flanked by her usual entourage: Amélie, armed and deadly, and the wet nurse who carried Fareeha. Gabriel nearly chuckled at the put-upon look on his fellow Talon guard’s face. Amélie was the least maternal woman he’d ever met and she no doubt grit her teeth every time the baby so much as whimpered.

Gabriel tipped his head into a respectful bow. “The princes requested complete privacy for their meeting, Your Grace.”

“To discuss what?”

“I can’t say. My liege hardly confides his every thought to me.”

“He confides enough. I presume you’ve reflected on the discussion we had after the ball.”

 _If only you knew,_ Gabriel thought.

“In great depth, Your Grace. Your advice was beneficial, as always. You’re very kind to take an interest in my wellbeing.”

“See that you take an interest in it too,” Ana warned, scrutinizing him through the veil of formalities.

Gabriel wondered what she’d say if he told her that he hadn’t even realized he had these dangerous feelings for Jack until she practically shoved them in his face. Before he could respond, the prince in question stormed out.

“Hi Ana,” he bit out, walking around her and striding down the hall.

Gabriel gave his future queen a quick parting bow before jogging in pursuit. Amélie frowned after him, no doubt curious what his exchange with Ana had been all about. Once upon time, he might have told her. They’d trained together as partners for years. But these days, he doubted she’d like the direction of his thoughts, particularly his suspicions about Akande, the man who taught them everything. It was all Gabriel could do to keep Olivia from reading too deep into his mind during meetings. 

Gabriel’s step faltered. Shit. The Talon meeting tonight. He’d been so caught up calculating how to hide his romantic feelings from Jack and everyone in the castle that he hadn’t even considered what a nightmare it would be to hide them from Olivia. And right after the most lurid piece of writing in existence had filled his head with all sorts of images. It had been tricky and treacherous enough when he was just concealing a friendship from her. Maybe, with some luck, he could position himself on the opposite side of the command center table, just out of her range, and then rush off as soon as the meeting was done.

Fuming, Jack still hadn’t spoken by the time they reached the clearing in the woods where they trained. The young squire in charge of managing their equipment leapt to his feet as he heard their boot steps. As Jack snapped his armor on, Gabriel busied himself instructing the boy on which swords and dummies to set up, and then dismissed him, leaving the two of them alone in the shady grove.

“Before I hand you a lethal weapon, you want to tell me what’s got you so angry?” Gabriel asked.

Jack scowled. “Reinhardt heard the reports of marauding Talon bandits, so he’s been gathering troops to ride out and solve the problem personally. I told him that it was wiser to wait until I figured out why this was happening and who was behind it, but he just saw it as reluctance to fight.”

“You made the decision to inform him of our plans without talking to me?”

“Do I need your permission?” Jack barked. Barely a second went by before a look of regret passed over his face. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay." 

“No, it’s not. You’re my friend.” The word _friend_ sounded strange. As though Jack had had a different word in mind. “You pointed out ages ago how unfair it was to play peasant; I shouldn’t be your friend at all if I’m going to switch back to being your prince whenever I feel like it." 

“Good to know you listen to me,” Gabriel chuckled.

“I’m just… so damn tired of being called soft and weak because I suggest thinking for five minutes before rushing in to fuck or fight. And I know you also think I—”

“Jack, you might be one of the strongest people I’ve ever met.”

“Oh.” The prince blinked in surprise. “Thank you.”

“People with only one tool in their toolbox will go to great lengths to convince you it’s the only good tool there is,” Gabriel said, tossing him a longsword and ignoring the butterflies that Jack’s blush released in his gut.

Jack caught it and took his stance before continuing: “Rein doesn’t get that some grand show of strength misses the point of this problem entirely. And then, when I pointed out that it was possible that the King was ordering the raids, he got belligerent, told me to leave my personal quarrels with our father out of public affairs. He gave me this grand speech on family solidarity.”

Their weapons clanged lightly as they moved through a series of steps, the motions of attacks and parries without the force.

“I presume that’s when you walked out?” Gabriel asked.

“I’d really hoped to find an ally in Rein, and not just because he commands the bulk of our troops, but he still sees Father as this brave golden hero and me as his petulant little brother. And now, whoever is orchestrating these raids will know to be on the defense.”

“Maybe that’s what they want,” Gabriel said thoughtfully. “Maybe the goal of these Talon bandits isn’t pure profit but to lure out and engage the King’s forces.”

“To weaken Father’s trust in the Talon Guard?”

“Or to thin the ranks of knights on the castle grounds.”

“I don’t like this,” Jack said. “There’s too much we don’t know. Too many variables.”

“Maybe I’ll learn something useful at the meeting this evening,” Gabriel said, shifting his footwork.

“I hope so,” Jack said, mirroring him. “Sometimes it feels like you’re the only person I can really trust.”

“Yeah,” Gabriel said softly, guilt sloshing through him. “Feeling’s mutual.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delayed update! The next few chapters are mostly written so I should be able to return to my weekly posting schedule soon. Thanks so much to everyone reading and leaving kudos and commenting <3 <3 <3


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's my birthday, so have an early update ;)

It was a mild night with only the faintest breeze and a handful of stars. Glancing up as he crossed the courtyard, Gabriel spotted the westward-moving trio he’d learned were called Orion’s belt. With a small smile, he remembered the softness of the grass at his back, Jack’s deep voice reciting the names of the constellations, the way he listened eagerly when Gabriel explained how they could help you plot a course and stick to it.

He passed through the gates to the castle’s outer compound and the glowing windows of the low building that acted as Talon’s base of operations came into view. Before entering, he took a few steadying breaths to clear his mind. He was greeted as warmly as ever by the other members of the Talon Guard – teasing grins and hearty roughhousing – and though he was happy to see them, he realized suddenly that it no longer felt like coming home.

Without his noticing, his definition of home had slowly morphed into a simple antechamber, with Jack just a room away, random castle noises and Emily knocking on his door every morning. 

Olivia gave him a smile, and Gabriel found it relatively simple to keep his thoughts on how much she’d grown, a woman now instead of a skinny girl. Akande had nicknamed her Sombra and though it suited her, she’d always be Olivia to him.

Akande called them to order and the rowdy group gathered around the large table, still elbowing each other. Moira sat at Akande’s side, silent and self-satisfied. Gabriel hadn’t expected to see her here tonight and it made him wary. She wasn’t really part of Talon, since witches held allegiance to no one but themselves, and she only took interest in political games when there was something in it for her.

Jesse and Ashe’s absence was also notable. Apparently, the Shimada royal family had need of them tonight, but Gabriel suspected that Jesse would be doing more than just standing guard. Annoyed, he resolved to talk to the younger man as soon as possible. His flirtation with Hanzo was causing him to take stupid risks.

Only a few seats down from him, Olivia gave no indication that she was following his every thought, though he knew he was in range of her abilities. Her poker face was much better than it used to be, he noted with a mix of pride and irritation. She shot him a wink.

“Things are moving quickly,” Akande announced, pleased for once. “Vishkar is ready to join us in laying siege to the castle and their army has already begun its march south. With Prince Reinhardt preparing his campaign to clean the countryside of bandits, we have an ideal opportunity in which to proceed. He intends to take nearly half the royal guard with him. Depending on Vishkar’s progress, we should be able to launch our revolution in six to eight weeks.”

Excitement burbled through the room. Gabriel could hardly believe it was finally happening. He was finally going to be able to avenge his father and rid everyone of that jackass parading as a regent. 

“However, the engagement of the princess to the younger prince of Shimada has added an unexpected element,” Akande continued, looking more thoughtful than perturbed. “Gabriel, you were there when the arrangement was made. Tell us what happened.” 

Gabriel recounted the luncheon in detail, including every bigoted remark the King made. It was gratifying to have everyone present react with the same anger and disgust he had.

“The Emperor appears reluctant for the match to actually go through," Gabriel said. "He even moved their departure date up. They plan to leave within the week."

“Dissent provides the most fascinating opportunities," Akande mused. "Shimada would make for a handy ally."

Olivia wiggled her fingers and he gave her permission to speak.

“Although the enemy of my enemy is my friend, at this point neither his dislike of the King nor his son’s betrothal to Vishkar’s Princess Satya will be enough to galvanize Sojiro to join our cause."

“Are you sure?” Akande asked through the room's disgruntled murmurs.

“Of course,” she replied smoothly. “He’s a cautious and honorable man. He won’t commit Shimada to an international conflict unless he has to. However, should he and his sons happen to still be in the castle when we make our move, good old Emperor Sojiro will have no choice but to choose a side. And as Gabriel pointed out, there is little reason to expect him to align with the King over Vishkar and us.”

“So, we must devise a way to encourage the Emperor to remain,” Amélie summed up. 

“Oh, Gabriel will help us with that,” Moira asserted, smile sharp. “I’ve a marvelous idea that will allow you to repay your second debt and also help this little game of chess along.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Gabriel said, feeling anything but.

Moira reached into one of her long sleeves and withdrew a tiny glass bottle. Its contents glinted purple in the lamplight as she passed it to him. It felt like a sliver of ice in his palm.

“Slip this into Sojiro’s drink tomorrow and he won’t be going anywhere,” she said.

Thick relief washed over him that he’d be able to repay this debt without hurting Jack. Feeling Olivia’s eyes on him, Gabriel didn’t give himself time to dwell on it, instead said:

“Surely, Hanzo will suspect someone of poisoning his father and insist on taking the family home.”

“If it was poison for the body, yes,” Moira replied, a devious glint in her blue eyes. “But this little concoction aims to upset Sojiro’s dragon.”

“Thought dragons was just made-up?” Junkrat complained, picking at his teeth.

“They’re not,” she said coldly. 

“And if the Emperor was having difficulty controlling his spirit dragon, he would hardly be eager to venture out for a journey of several weeks,” Akande said. “He wouldn’t even want to be seen until the problem was taken care of.”

“Precisely.”

Gabriel resisted the temptation to ask exactly what Moira was getting out of this, knowing he wouldn’t get a straight answer. No one in the room gave straight answers. The Talon Guard were family to each other, but there was an indisputable layer of mistrust beneath all that comradery. In large part because Akande rewarded anyone who ratted out another's misbehavior. 

Gabriel had never realized how exhausting an atmosphere this was until he became friends with Jack and learned that he could let some of his walls down. He felt another slosh of guilt when he thought of how much Jack trusted him and how betrayed he would feel when the revolution happened. Maybe Akande was right. Maybe trust _was_ an unacceptable weakness.

“If the Emperor is incapacitated, the decision whether or not to join us will fall to the elder prince,” Amélie commented shrewdly. “He may not be of the same mindset as his father. Can we be certain he will choose our side?”

“Oh, I can think of a reason or two why Hanzo would want to align with us. Right, Gabriel?” Olivia asked with a toothy grin.

Gabriel clenched his jaw but nodded. A short huff of amusement from Akande revealed he was in on the secret, too, no doubt thanks to Olivia. Gabriel felt a tug of anger at how willing they were to manipulate Jesse for their goals.

But he was the one tucking poison into his pocket with intent to use it, so he didn’t exactly have the moral high ground here.

 _Morality, so often trumpeted as the ultimate universal law, is as subjective and changeable as a cat’s moods_ , Duke Morris had written. And then a paragraph later he was back to talking about how sensitive his lover’s nipples were, how hard they got under his tongue.

Gabriel wondered whether he could make Jack cum just by playing with his pecs, imagined the sounds Jack would make, how he’d arch into Gabriel’s mouth—

His thoughts screeched to a halt.

But it was already too late.

A glance at Olivia confirmed that. Her poker face had gotten better but her eyes were hard and accusing. There would be no escaping a conversation with her after the meeting now.

Well, in for a penny, in for a pound. If she wanted to spy on him, she could have everything. He gave her a sardonic smile and pictured fucking Jack over the side of his enormous bed in as much detail as possible, down to the beads of sweat and the slap of their bodies and the scrunch of the sheets. He pictured Jack on his knees, mouth open, tongue out, panting as Gabriel’s cum splashed over his face. He pictured licking Jack clean afterwards, tasting his own salt when they kissed.

Olivia went rigid and looked away in embarrassed fury, her hands tightening to fists.

The sky had deepened to a black-indigo color by the time Gabriel was sent off with warm goodbyes, having sworn to dose Emperor Sojiro before sunset the following day.

Olivia followed in terse silence, periodically huffing out furious breaths through her nose. Gabriel continued his mental montage of filthy imagery until they were far enough from Talon’s command center for her to hiss:

“ _Stop that!_ ”

“If you go looking for dirt, don’t get upset when you find it,” Gabriel retorted.

“You’re so stupid. I told you those feelings of yours were going to get you in trouble. And no, we’re not going to discuss about maybe hurting poor Jesse’s feelings. We are going to talk about how badly you’re fucking things up!”

Conversations with Olivia often went like this. She’d read your mind and latch onto a topic or respond to your thought before you could decide whether or not to say anything.

Their boots trailed the beaten ground as they walked through the aristocratic neighborhood, still relatively active despite the late hour.

“Funny, it seems to me it’s more _you_ than my feelings that gets me in trouble,” Gabriel drawled. “If you haven’t noticed, I’ve done everything asked of me and am still completely committed to our goals —”

“Except if it hurts Jack.” 

“Is a total massacre really the only way we win? Aren’t we supposed to be bringing the realm into a better era?”

“It doesn’t matter if Jack wants that, too. He’s a decent person now, sure, but you executing his father is going to change his whole perspective. Yeah, exactly, like you losing your father. And if it comes down to the choice between saving Jack’s life and completing your objective? Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

Olivia heaved a sigh, more upset than Gabriel had ever seen her. He felt for her. She wanted so badly for people’s lives to be better, for their revolution to smash the unfair system holding their country hostage, where you were born to rule or be ruled.

“I’m _not_ just pissed about the revolt,” she burst out. “Damnit, Gabe, you think I haven’t seen exactly how happy you’ve been these past few years? You think I don’t know how in love you guys are? I mean, part of me wants to be glad you finally got together, but mostly I’m angry that you’ve managed to put yourself in a position where you’re inevitably going to get hurt.”

Gabriel’s heart missed about ten beats. 

He gaped at her, blood pounding in his ears, the terrifying burn of hope beginning in his veins.

“What did you just say?”

Olivia frowned at him in confusion for several seconds and then realization dawned on her face. Eyes wide, she slapped a hand over her mouth, horrified at her mistake.

“O-oh, uh, never mind, guess I—well, don’t worry, I’m not going to tell Akande you and Jack are—Or no, that you, _you_ have feelings for him. Because I care about you, y’know? So, yeah, I’ll see you later!”

Jittery, she turned and began marching back the way they came, only for Gabriel to appear in front of her.

“Olivia, you seem—” 

“I’m not nervous!” She squeaked. “What do you mean I just ‘pulled an Ana’? …Oh.”

She tried to dodge around him, but he caught one of her wrists. Despite the (light) use of force to keep her in place, he was smiling. A stupid, happy smile that made her wince. How could she have so much foresight and still be such an idiot? She felt like she’d just trapped herself in one of her own prophecies.

“Jack's in love with me?”

And god damnit, she could practically _hear_ the fireworks going off in his head, the mountainous joy over just saying those words out loud, the stupid hope.

“You remember how I just said you’re inevitably going to get—”

“How long?”

She stared up at him glumly, knowing full well that he wouldn’t let go until she answered his questions, knowing full well that she’d given him the key to his greatest happiness and his greatest heartbreak, knowing full well she just changed his fate and altered the course of history. All because she’d gotten flustered and assumed…

She looked away, looked back, and gave a heavy sigh. “Years.”

“And you didn’t say anything to me?”

“It was more tactical to hold onto that piece of information.”

“More tactical…” He jerked her closer, expression shifting from joyful to dangerous. “What did you tell Akande?”

“That Jack considered you his only real friend and thus was vulnerable where you were concerned.”

“I’m meant to believe you didn’t tell Akande everything?”

“He…Jack…Look, it’s not that I like the guy or anything but he…sees you in a really nice way,” she mumbled. “I didn’t really want to take that away from you if I didn’t have to.”

To Olivia's surprise, he yanked her into a long, overjoyed hug. She couldn’t remember the last time somebody had felt so warmly towards her. Gabriel had always been like an older brother but in Talon, bonds that went deeper than basic loyalty were discouraged.

“What I don’t understand is why you thought Jack and I were together,” Gabriel said, stepping back. “You said you could tell the difference between memory and imagination.” 

“I _can_ , normally, but it’s weird. Some of your, uh, fantasy scenes were so similar to his, I just sort of assumed they had to have happened. No, I’m not going to tell you which ones and oh gross, _please_ stop thinking about them.”

He laughed, loud and happy, heart soaring, and she desperately wished she could see far enough ahead to know how this would all end.

“I won’t torment you any longer then. Got any parting riddles for me?” 

Olivia expanded her mind, reached out into that timeless space, and the universe obligingly put words in her mouth:

“Masks can hide other masks.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter features the awesome art of Vesser! ＼(*＾▽＾*)／
> 
> Check out more of their stuff on Twitter at [@pencilvesser](https://twitter.com/pencilvesser)!

Jack was losing his mind.

It started the morning after the Talon meeting. Emily loaded the empty breakfast dishes onto her tray and maneuvered out the door. From where he was sitting at the small but elegant table in his chambers, Jack could hear her and Gabriel trade friendly jibes as she passed through the guard’s room to the exit.

And then Gabriel sauntered in wearing what had to be the tightest pair of pants Jack had ever seen, some sort of stretchy black wool that clung to every curve and bulge. Plus, he was still pulling his shirt on over his head, so Jack had a few seconds to gawk at his muscled chest as well, following the trail of black hair that began at his bellybutton and vanished into his…

Jack wrenched his attention back to the document he was reading, hating how red his face no doubt was. Over the past few years, he had gotten very good at acting calm and unflustered around his bodyguard, making sure his smiles and blushes stayed mostly hidden, and avoiding thinking about moments like this until he was alone in bed. He wouldn’t falter now.

And he did manage to file away his desire and have a proper conversation with Gabriel. They agreed there was no point in going on their planned excursion if Reinhardt was set on leading a crusade into the countryside. Gabriel recounted how neutrally Akande spoke of the bandits, how he didn’t refer to them as Talon, and the two of them debated whether that was intentional on the Talon Commander’s part. Similarly, they discussed how enthusiastically the King endorsed Reinhardt’s plans and wondered whether there wasn’t some underhanded reason why.

However, Jack spent the rest of the day trying not to stare at Gabriel’s ass and failing miserably. When he fell into bed that night, hard and aching, he thought there could be no greater torture than that.

He was wrong.

Jack spent as little time in the baths as possible these days, not trusting himself with Gabriel lounging like a cat nearby, twirling his knives with those dexterous fingers. Barely a minute after he sank naked into the hot water, he heard Gabriel curse and glanced over to see a dagger skittering across the marble floor towards him. The guard dove after it just as it plunked into the water, skidding towards the edge of the pool on his stomach and coming to a stop with his face mere inches from Jack’s.

“Sorry,” Gabriel said with an insolent grin and one arm soaked up to his elbow. “Get that for me?”

He was close enough that Jack could feel the brush of his breath. The prince hurriedly dunked himself under to retrieve the knife off the bottom of the large bath, his heart pounding. At least he could pretend this flustered blush was due to the steam.

And then the next day, while training in the forest clearing, it got even worse.

“Your form’s gotten sloppy.”

“My form’s gotten sloppy?” Jack echoed, giving him a strange look. “You haven’t had to adjust my form in over a year.”

“Well, then, it’s my fault for letting it slide,” Gabriel said with a scowl, bringing his sword up and moving into an attack stance.

Annoyed, Jack mirrored him and was caught off-guard when Gabriel immediately lunged into an attack. The clang of steel rang through the trees as he barely brought his blade up in time to block. Though Jack managed to parry and riposte the next few assaults, Gabriel pushed close and relentless, over and over, challenging Jack’s usual surefootedness and denying him the chance to really use his speed, which was his biggest advantage over his opponent.

It was hardly a fencing lesson, but the guard had always scoffed at the notion that a real engagement with blades would be so neat as to stay within the lines. Gabriel taught Jack the rules and then taught Jack how to break them, so he shouldn’t have been surprised when Gabriel pulled a move that would be completely illegal in a tournament, body-checking him to upset his balance before quickly rotating to sweep a kick into the backs of his calves.

And Jack found himself on his knees again, Gabriel behind him, this time with a sword at his throat.

The custom blue armor did its job; the blade lightly scraped against enamel rather than flesh even though Gabriel’s grip in his hair tilted his head back far enough that their eyes met.

The moment seemed to stretch on forever, both of them panting from exertion, and the only thing running through Jack’s mind was: _Fuck me_.

Red-faced and burning up, it was all he could do not to moan the words aloud. Especially when Gabriel’s hold softened and stroked over the back of his head before he stepped away. Jack remained on the ground as he caught his breath, unspeakably grateful that his battle gear hid how painfully aroused he was.

He retired early, locked himself in his chambers and bit into his pillow to stifle the noises that escaped him as he plunged three fingers slick with olive oil into himself, over and over, until he came so hard that his spine bowed and his legs shook and his vision blanked.

Jack wasn’t sure how much more of this he could handle.

To his great relief, the next day seemed normal enough. No skintight clothes or sudden proximity or suggestive interactions. Their conversation en route to the library stuck to innocuous topics. As they reached the large mahogany doors, Genji and Angela burst out, giggling mischievously.

“Jack! Jack!” She yipped. “I’m teaching Genji about the human body!”

“The knowledge will help me cut down my enemies!” The boy said with a grin. “Did you know if you hit an artery, the person’ll bleed to death in seconds?”

“Good to know,” Jack laughed. “Careful Father doesn’t catch you in the library.”

“Well, if my betrothed wants to find a book, I can’t very well refuse to help him, can I?” She said, eyes glinting. “That would be bad for the alliance.”

“I’m very spoiled,” Genji added. “I get mad if I don’t get what I want.”

“I see,” Jack said with a smile. “I’m glad Angela’s been so helpful then.”

“I’m helpful too, though! I’m going to teach Angie how to fight with a bowstaff.”

“Shh! Don’t tell people!” Angela hissed. “Mother thinks it’s unnatural for girls to know how to fight.”

“Oh.” Genji looked up at Jack uncertainly. “Should I not do it then? If it’s unnatural?”

“Well, unnatural doesn’t always mean bad. It’s unnatural to look at the stars through a telescope instead of just using our eyes, and you wouldn't call that bad, would you?”

“Guess not,” Genji said, his expression lightening.

Angela gave her brother a toothy smile, before grabbing Genji’s hand and scampering off down the hall.

As Gabriel held the door, Jack noticed an odd, knowing look on his face.

“What?”

“That’s a good line. About telescopes being unnatural but in a positive way. Sounds kind of familiar. Did you get it from a book?”

“Yeah, I think so—”

Jack stopped mid-step when he remembered exactly where he’d read it. Chunks of ice dropped into his stomach even as heat flooded his face. Gabriel was already calling out hello to Siebren and wandering off towards the shelves, leaving Jack shell-shocked and panicking, his heart and mind tying each other in knots. 

What the hell did Gabriel mean by it sounding familiar? Had he found Duke Morris’s journal? Had he read it? Had he just figured out that Jack had read it?

“Good morning, Your Highness,” Siebren said with a soft bow. “Shall we continue our discussion on the Trojan War?”

“What? Oh. Yes, of course,” Jack babbled, taking a seat at the table and futzing with the atlases, texts and parchment laid out.

His gentle giant of a tutor had been expanding their study of the history of warfare to include epic myths, insisting that there was much to be learned about what drove men to battle and that that was just as important as battlefield tactics. Jack had been enjoying the lessons immensely, but now could hardly hear the words coming out of Siebren’s mouth.

“Many consider deception to be the primary motivator of the conflict, and to be sure, dishonesty played a mighty role – Paris abducted Helen while supposedly on a diplomatic mission, the famous Trojan Horse gave the Greeks their victory – but what most people forget is how critical love was to creating and prolonging this war.”

“Love, right,” Jack said. On the edge of his awareness, Gabriel moved through the ground floor, a leather tome in hand. “Aphrodite promised Paris the love of the most beautiful woman in the world, which kickstarted the whole thing.” 

“Indeed. Though it also spurred the greatest of all Greek warriors to take part in the battle. Were it not for his love of Patroclus and his grief over losing him, Achilles would not have fought. Hard to say whether the Greeks would have won without him, though many think not.”

“Patroclus was Achilles’ cousin?” Jack asked, trying not to notice that Gabriel had taken a seat at the adjacent table to read.

“And his lover. So the stories say.”

Jack nearly fell out of his chair. “What?”

“Did you not know there were men who bedded other men?” Siebren asked with a frown. “Ah, well, no matter. You see, due to his anger at being dishonored by King Agamemnon, Achilles originally chose not to participate…”

Jack flushed pink and wondered what he’d done to incur which god’s wrath. _Why_ did this have to come up this week of all weeks? He risked a glance towards Gabriel, who raised his eyebrows at him from over his book. Jack was two seconds away from flipping the table and racing out of the room.

The rest of the lesson remained in neutral territory, focusing on the tactics and strategies used to siege or defend the city of Troy. It simultaneously dragged on forever and ended too soon. When Siebren wrapped their discussion up and began gathering the various texts, Jack leapt to his feet and said he’d put the materials away himself, anything to delay having to face Gabriel alone. 

He should have known luck wouldn’t be on his side. Gabriel graciously offered to help him return the eight or so books to where they belonged. Jack’s heart thudded harder with every step up to the second floor.

Humming to himself, Siebren sat at the grand piano near the windows downstairs and began playing a melody. The sweet sound filled the library, though was stifled as Jack made his way between two long shelves. The Greek section spanned both sides of the aisle. Gabriel leisurely followed into the enclosed space, checked the cover of the book on top of his stack and began searching for its home.

Jack stared at his own quarry and then at the shelf in front of him. Their titles might as well have actually been in ancient Greek for all the sense they made. He slotted the books in anywhere there was a free slot.

“Hang on, that’s wrong,” Gabriel said, his muscled arm reaching right by Jack’s face. “ _This_ one goes there. That one goes…”

He stretched up to slip it onto a higher ledge, his flank brushing Jack’s side. The heat of him and the muskiness of his sweat was intoxicating. Jack inhaled it as subtly as he could, but even so, he felt Gabriel’s eyes on him.

“Pretty sure that one goes next to it.”

Jack nearly jumped when fingers trailed down his forearm to the book he’d forgotten he was holding, grasped his wrist and lifted it to guide the text back onto the shelf, until his hand was flat against the book spines with Gabriel’s splayed on top of it. Jack swallowed. His breathing sounded very loud in the small space.

“You didn’t actually answer the question,” Gabriel rumbled.

“What question?” Jack asked, mouth dry.

“Did you know there are men who bed other men?”

“I might have heard that somewhere,” Jack managed to rasp out.

“Read it in a book, maybe?”

Jack flushed, this time from anger, and twisted out of the cage of Gabriel’s arms.

“You’re doing this on purpose,” he growled. “You’ve been doing this on purpose all week.”

“Oh?” Gabriel hummed, tilting his head. “Why would I do something like that?”

“Don’t mock me. You already pick at all my weak points,” Jack said, chest tight. “It’s all you’ve ever done.”

Gabriel stood between him and the open end of the bookcase. As he pushed past, the guard caught his waist and his wrist, spun him like they were dancing and pinned him against the shelves.

Jack froze.

“I’ll show you one of mine, then,” Gabriel said, low and hypnotic. 

Jack’s heartbeat battered his rib cage as Gabriel leaned in, closed his eyes and brushed their lips together.

He waited for the punchline, for Gabriel to drop the act and laugh at him for falling for it. Because he _was_ falling for it. He lived for the crinkle between Gabriel’s eyebrows, the softness of his mouth, the solid strength of him. So close. Holding him.

Gabriel pulled back slowly, eyes smoldering dark, to find Jack staring at him completely unmoving. A slimy wash of terror crashed down his spine. Had Olivia lied to him?

A needy gasp stuck in Jack’s throat. He clutched at Gabriel's shirt collar and dragged him back, catching his mouth in a desperate kiss that made Gabriel’s knees go weak. _Oh._ When blunt nails scraped down his chest, he let out a noise somewhere between a groan and a whimper. And Jack thought he might die because it was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard.

Every single fantasy he'd had over the last few years fell to dust with a single taste of the real thing.

Gabriel chased Jack’s lips open with his own, until he could sink his tongue into the prince’s willing mouth. Heat shot through Jack like forked lightning, exploding into sparks in his stomach and behind his groin. His hands scrabbled at the fabric of Gabriel’s shirt until they met warm skin. At the delicious contact, Gabriel moved into him, crushing him into the bookcase, strong and hard, very hard, pulsing against his thigh and god Jack wanted it, even though he knew he shouldn’t, knew he couldn’t. He lifted his leg a fraction and Gabriel gasped into the kiss. Jack dug his fingers into his tender back muscles, insistent, and sucked on his lower lip.

In response, Gabriel stroked a rough palm down over his abdomen, then lower, grazing the bulge there—

“Yoohoo, Your Highness?” Called a chipper voice from below. “You upstairs?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahaha, all my updates lately have been cock blocks XD Sorry not sorry. You have to have some tricks before you get your treats ;)
> 
> But hey! The slow burn has caught! We fire now!


	12. Chapter 12

“Yoohoo, Your Highness?” Called a chipper voice from below. “You upstairs?”

They separated with a jolt, elbows colliding with bookshelves, faces hot and bodies clumsy. Gabriel pressed the back of his hand to his mouth and tried to calm his breathing. Jack moved to the end of the row and coughed to clear his throat.

“What is it, Lena?”

“The Queen sent me to fetch you for the garden party,” she chirped, her nimble footsteps skipping up the steps.

“Stay there,” Jack ordered, trying to sound normal. “We’ll be down in a second.”

He leaned his forehead against the shelf and counted in-two-three, out-two-three. He couldn’t look at Gabriel. If he did, he wouldn’t be able to resist dragging him into another kiss. His heart fluttered, ecstatic and disbelieving. Gabriel had kissed him. The warmth of his body still lingered on his skin. Jack forced himself to concentrate on the melody Siebren was still playing on the piano, willing the tightness in his breeches away.

Though Gabriel had managed to resume a neutral facial expression, he was trying not to panic, trying to squash the urge to bolt. What the hell had he been thinking? Just because Jack was in love with him didn’t mean what they’d done wasn’t dumb as fuck. If Lena had seen them…

Jack stepped out of the safety of the bookcase without glancing back. A chill ran through Gabriel. Was Jack having similar thoughts? Was he embarrassed? Regretful? Gabriel flung together plans of escape. He’d have to get the hell out of the kingdom before the consequences, the monarchy or Akande caught up with him. But right now, there was nothing for him to do but follow his prince and act natural.

The garden party was excruciating, far too dull to distract either man from the charged encounter they’d shared in the shadows of the library. The same crowd of lords, ladies and royal family members that attended court guzzled wine and made elaborate comments about the overcast weather.

Jack managed to offer Hanzo his regrets that Sojiro wasn’t feeling well and hope for the Emperor’s quick recovery. But beyond that, every conversation someone began with him ended nowhere. Observing the rose bushes without registering a petal or a leaf, Jack risked a glance at Gabriel, who stood around the gathering’s perimeter with the other guards on duty.

Gabriel normally watched him like a hawk, and it startled Jack that the guard couldn’t meet his eyes. He had never seen Gabriel so uncertain. He frowned at the closed, tense body language and realized with a twinge that Gabriel was terrified of what he’d just done, of what had just occurred, of what Jack – or more specifically, Prince John III – could do next.

Was that why Vincent had never attempted to touch or kiss him? Because Jack held all the power? As the second son (“the spare heir” he joked), the full magnitude of his position and privilege as a prince often slipped his mind, often to the detriment of others. Lena had been scolded by the steward on several occasions for daring to address Jack as a friend in public. Vincent had done nothing but gaze longingly at him and had been punished terribly for it.

And yet Gabriel had touched him, braved all those risks and consequences. Jack couldn’t help the stupid smile that spread over his face. Because Gabriel wouldn’t have done that for lust alone. The guard had no shortage of options when it came to bedmates. Hell, half of the female gentry would shuck class divisions and all their clothes if he gave them a single smolder.

Gabriel wanted him.

Jack felt like he was sitting in a ray of summer sunshine, warm to the point of overheating but too cozy and happy to move. It took every drop of willpower he had not to stride straight over to Gabriel and kiss him until that anxiety flew away forever. He couldn’t look at Gabriel’s lips and not think of them hot on his, insistently opening his mouth, devouring him.

Screw this. He wasn’t going to stand around making dull conversation while Gabriel stewed in self-doubt for the rest of the afternoon.

Jack cast around the party, searching for an escape plan. Doubtless, his mother would notice if he just took off with his guard in tow when she knew he had no other engagements. He had to avoid her growing suspicious of Gabriel at all costs. His attention landed on Hanzo, whose eyes were glazed over with boredom, and an idea struck him.

It took very little effort to persuade Hanzo to join him for a ride in the nearby woodlands. The Shimada family had gifted him and Reinhardt with beautiful archery equipment that Jack had yet to have the chance to practice with. Their guards would accompany them, of course.

Gabriel watched him, curious, but remained quiet and pensive even as they trotted out of the castle compound. Even Jesse tossed a few concerned looks his way. They reached a secluded meadow and the squires set about arranging wooden targets. Jack hadn’t planned exactly how he was going to convince their party to split up, but to his surprise, Hanzo himself suggested it. After an amicable hour of launching arrows from horseback, the prince of Shimada wondered if Jack would care to join him in riding several miles to the river.

Jack graciously declined and swore he caught the beginning of a smile on Hanzo’s face. After he and Jesse tore off through the trees, Jack told the squires they were returning to the castle and to break down the equipment. Gabriel was still watching him, curious and cautious but hopeful. Jack gave him a shy look and kicked his horse into a canter. Instead of taking the turn towards the castle, however, he led Gabriel down the path deeper into the forest.

The silence between them was strange and unfamiliar. After ten taut minutes, they looped their reins around a low-hanging tree branch and continued on foot, eyes on the trail to avoid tripping on roots, acutely aware of the sound of the other’s breathing.

Jack felt like he was going to explode. He wanted Gabriel so badly and hated that he could technically have him at any time. He wanted the guard to do what he wanted, not just go along with the lusts of a prince he technically couldn’t say no to. He wanted Gabriel to be in control. But he couldn’t simply ask that. Asking that of him was tantamount to ordering him to do it.

 _Just take it from me,_ Jack begged silently. _I don’t want to be anything but yours._

His heart leapt into his throat when Gabriel’s hand nudged into his, as if by accident. Jack’s fingers parted, letting Gabriel tangle them together, palms warm, their heartbeats now clattering into each other, a call and response.

They reached a small grove of wild fruit trees, a swath of green grass running through them.

Gabriel meant to say, _We should talk. This is dangerous. You don't know what's coming. This won’t end well for either of us._ But Jack looked at him and his gaze held the entire universe. And instead, Gabriel used their joined hands to pull Jack closer and kissed him again, slow and hot and lovely. Like it was the easiest thing in the world. The prince sighed sharply against his lips and surged into him, his other hand curling around the back of Gabriel’s neck.

And Gabriel couldn’t think anymore.

The apprehension from the library dissolved, a precious comfortable feeling taking its place, as every caress, squeeze, sigh demonstrated how much they both wanted this. Wanted each other. The kisses lengthened in succession, drugging and deep, until they were straining into one other. Fingers hooked into clothes, keeping the distance between them as minimal as possible.

Jack’s breath snagged as strong hands slid over his ass and pulled their bodies flush, the hold burning through the fabric. He barely registered being lowered down until his elbows and the small of his back met springy grass, but when it hit him how intimate a position this put them in, a shiver rocked his whole body.

“Is this alright?” Gabriel asked, kneeling over him, careful and cautious in a way he never was.

Jack licked his lips, thrilled to taste Gabriel on them, and brought their foreheads together. He swallowed around everything he couldn’t say yet, silent shouts of _I love you I love you I love you_.

“Anything you want to do is alright,” he replied, voice raspy.

Hot breaths coasted over the side of his throat and a low groan escaped him unchecked when Gabriel pressed a kiss there. He tilted his head and the kisses turned rougher, open-mouthed, hungry. Jack’s cock ached so much, he thought he’d fly to pieces. It was tempting to arch up, to close the few inches separating their groins.

A nip to the tender crook of his neck and he spasmed as though electrocuted. His head snapped forward to crack hard against Gabriel’s skull.

The guard reflexively slammed Jack back into the grass, his hand splayed across that pale throat.

Gabriel froze, horrified at his automatic response, an apology on the tip of his tongue, but Jack was staring at him with stunned arousal, breaths fast and shallow, his mouth open, his eyes burning hot and dark.

Did Jack want…?

In one swift motion, Gabriel tipped Jack’s chin up and caught his mouth.

Jack let out a harsh exhale and his lips parted to drink him in, stifling a moan as a tongue brushed his own. He hardly had a moment to savor the deliciously solid and heavy body _finally_ pressing him into the earth before his hands were dragged above his head.

When the grip on his wrists tightened into shackles, his hips bucked upwards, embarrassingly uncontrolled.

“Oh,” Gabriel said, rough breath over Jack’s swollen lips. “You _really_ like that.”

Jack squeezed his eyes shut, feeling overheated and exposed and mortified, but Gabriel adjusted the angle of his hips and ground forward, light and teasing, their cocks lined up through the fabric of their pants, the pressure just enough to be completely maddening. His thighs compulsively squeezed the outside of Gabriel’s in a plea for more.

“That why you play peasant?” Gabriel rumbled, panting. “You just hoping someone’s going to come along and order you around?”

“ _Gabe_ ,” Jack whined, writhing up into him, desperate to escape, desperate for more friction, desperate for Gabriel to stop talking and keep talking.

“Maybe order to your knees?”

Fire spread through Jack’s muscles, heat smearing across his neck and chest to pool in his gut. His cock pulsed. It was too much, everything he was hearing and feeling, the unbearable awful perfect volts of pleasure wiping his mind clean with every thrust of Gabriel’s hips between his legs.

“Look at me, Your Highness.”

Jack had always hated it when Gabriel called him by his title, but now it sprinkled embers down his spine, underscored how much control Gabriel was taking, how much control Jack wasn’t supposed to be giving away.

He obeyed without thinking.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” Gabriel whispered.

Bright lightning snapped through Jack’s entire being at those words. He gazed up at Gabriel in helpless awe, happiness and terror, lust and love. 

“Gabe,” he rasped out again, incapable of saying anything else, but that was okay because as far as he was concerned, there was nothing else worth saying.

The desire in Gabriel’s eyes was _everything_. His hips set a rhythm that had Jack gasping and swearing and thrusting up, until his mind and body melted. Gabriel watched him fall apart at the seams beneath him, hungry for it, astounded at the perfection of it, astounded that it was him doing it.

Jolts ran through Jack, sparks to bolts, the pleasure building and cresting and finally _slamming_ into him. He shuddered, mouth open, spilling hot in the intolerable confines of his clothes.

Gabriel seized, muscles tight, and spasmed, almost scowling in pleasure, Jack’s name on his lips as his own orgasm crashed through him.

The clenched grip on his wrists was liable to leave bruises, but Jack didn’t care. He recalled daydreaming how this first time would go, the rose petals and seductive strokes and careful undressing, nothing like this animalistic rutting. This had been messier and clumsier and so much better than he ever could have imagined. He waited for the moment to break, for the awkwardness to separate them, for Gabriel to recoil now that the heat had cooled to something sticky and uncomfortable.

“So gorgeous,” Gabriel mumbled again.

To his surprise, Jack looked away, nervous.

Gabriel remembered a room at an inn, a sad smile on Jack’s face, _I have more stuff than I know what to do with but none of it really matters._ The same could be said of the people in the prince’s life, couldn’t it? Jack was never alone, badgered by servants and members of the court, but he was frequently lonely. His status divided him from his friends, who couldn’t truly relax around him, and simultaneously chained him to his family, who had shown him little love and littler understanding.

It was only Gabriel who would tell Jack he was gorgeous, that he shone brighter than the sun, that he was excruciatingly loved. So, he did. He kept his prince trapped below him and murmured everything, kissing his feverish cheeks and eyelids and trembling mouth.

Restrained, Jack could do nothing but dissolve under the onslaught, unable to hide from the overwhelming tide of love, unable to stop it breaking him to pieces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (▰˘◡˘▰)
> 
> P.S. Anyone enjoying this fic should absolutely 100% go read the novel "Red, White & Royal Blue" by Casey McQuiston, which is about the President of the United State's son and the youngest Prince of England falling in love. It's sweet and smart and funny (and even has the enemies-to-friends-to-lovers trope that is my FAVE), and it's honestly the first book in years that I wanted to reread the instant I finished it.


	13. Chapter 13

“I’ve dreamt about having you naked in my bath since that time I dragged you in here,” Jack murmured into Gabriel’s lips.

The hot water lapped around them as they kissed, hands exploring heated skin. That silly bath fight was three years ago, Gabriel recalled. Olivia had been telling the truth. He squeezed Jack close, felt his living pulse, and wished he could somehow undo all those years of longing and loneliness.

“Sorry it took me so long to catch on.”

Chuckling, Jack rested his cheek on Gabriel’s shoulder, cool from the air, and relished the sensation of callused hands coasting down his back, the feel of firm thighs sliding beneath his, the way the ring on Gabriel’s necklace was trapped between their chests.

It was indulgent and a bit risky to be doing this in the baths, but all the nobility were at the garden party and all the attendants had been dismissed, and it was impossible to keep from touching each other now that they knew they could. Broad palms stroked over Jack’s waist and the curve of ass, drawing a happy sigh from him. He could still barely believe this was real.

After a long, lazy moment, he pulled back to give the bodyguard a serious look. “We can’t let my mother suspect anything.”

“Says the man sitting in my lap.”

“I’m serious.”

“She’s not going to be able to make me vanish quite so easily,” Gabriel said, mentally adding: _She won’t live long enough to._

He allowed himself to imagine the future, the society Akande intended to create after the elimination of the monarchy, where the class system no longer existed and people elected their leaders. Jack would be on equal footing with his friends, no longer divided by their status. Reinhardt could charge off to fight the battles he desired instead of being shoehorned into governing. Unencumbered by royal bureaucracy, Ana could help guide the country into a new era. Angela could become a doctor. And he and Jack could make themselves a home somewhere away from prying eyes.

The realist in the back of Gabriel’s mind broke in, rudely reminding him that this idyllic society was intended to be built on the royal family’s blood – the _entire_ royal family’s blood. Akande would never allow Jack to walk away a free man.

“What are you thinking about?”

Gabriel tilted his head and let his fingertips trail down the seam of Jack’s ass. The prince exhaled a harsh “ _Ah_ ” as they caressed over the hole there, his spine arching on impulse.

“How much I want to take you right here,” Gabriel rumbled.

Heat that had nothing to do with the temperature of the water unfurled through Jack’s body, burning in the pit of his stomach.

But Gabriel’s hands retreated. “…and how bad an idea that is.”

“Because Duke Morris warned that water washes away lubrication?” Jack laughed, breathless.

“That,” Gabriel leaned in close, “and considering how loud I intend to make you scream, we probably shouldn't be anywhere with tiled walls.”

The prince grinned into Gabriel's mouth and kissed him again, enthusiastic enough that the guard’s cock twitched awake, bobbing higher in the water until their hardening erections brushed.

Already obsessed with how Jack writhed in his lap, Gabriel thought: _I have to keep this, somehow. Keep him._

They spent several luxurious minutes pressing deep, fervent kisses into each other’s lips and throats and collarbones, letting the ache sweeten and build between them, lazy pleasure they left unfinished, a promise for later.

At length, they managed to peel themselves apart. In fresh clothes, they rejoined the garden party, their hearts singing silently to each other. Torches were lit, the flames forming a merry circle in the darkening evening.

Gabriel caught sight of Hanzo, also in a different outfit and a far better mood, which hopefully meant Sojiro’s health couldn’t be too terrible. Slipping him Moira’s potion had been as dismayingly easy as snipping that lock of Angela’s hair. It didn’t say great things for the castle’s security.

Jack made a grand show of talking with his cousins, flirting with a few noble ladies and ignoring Gabriel until the Queen’s narrowed gaze relaxed and refocused elsewhere. The bodyguard did his part, too, yawning in boredom or openly scowling whenever he wasn’t chatting with Jesse, Ashe and Amélie. Even at the end of the party, as the two of them walked back to Jack’s chambers, they kept a careful, disinterested distance between them.

Gabriel bolted the door shut for the night, and a quiet beat passed, both savoring that they were now truly alone in private with one another. Jack stared at him, longing but hesitant, until Gabriel cradled his face and thoroughly kissed him.

Eager fingers loosened the leather straps of Gabriel’s armor and undid the gold fastenings on Jack’s shirt. They stumbled through the modest antechamber, past Gabriel’s bed and trunk of belongings, and into the prince’s spacious suite, dropping articles of clothing as they went.

"We don’t have to be in my bed,” Jack blurted out.

“Why would we not use the bigger bed?” Gabriel frowned. “Do you not want me in your—”

“No, no, that’s not what I meant. I just don’t want you to feel like you don’t have a choice. Or like I’m ordering you or anything.”

After a few baffled seconds, Gabriel got it. “You’re worried you’re taking advantage of me.”

“Just…You’re allowed say no.”

“Because I’m usually such a compliant servant who wouldn’t think of defying you,” Gabriel snickered, making Jack roll his eyes. “I think you’re forgetting…” He nudged Jack backwards onto the giant bed. “…that I kissed you first.”

His knees sank into the plush mattress as he crawled over the prince’s nearly naked body. Jack stared up at him hungrily, already tugging at the laces over the bulge in Gabriel’s breeches.

“I want…” Jack blushed and buried his face into the side of Gabriel’s neck. “…want you in my mouth.”

“That so?” Gabriel hummed, bemused and deeply aroused. “Prince John III wants a commoner’s cock in his mouth.”

“Nng, shut up.” Jack tried to ignore the molten splash of desire that went through him at those words.

Gabriel pulled back, forced Jack to look at him and kissed him hard, driving his tongue into his mouth. Jack moaned helplessly.

He coaxed the rest of Gabriel’s clothes off and shucked his own, before urging him to lie back against the pillows, loving the sight of his bodyguard splayed out on his ostentatious comforter. He was the realest thing in the whole damn room.

Jack had no experience sucking cock; Jack did not care. He tongued the leaking head, licked up the thick shaft and sucked as much of it as he could into his mouth, elated at every gasp and curse he elicited from Gabriel. He figured out how to breathe through his nose, how to tilt his head just so, how to drag his tongue up the underside, and Gabriel’s control fractured and shattered. Ragged groans escaped him unchecked. He arched, heels digging into the comforter, as he thrust up into that delicious, wet heat. Which was _his_ _prince's_ _mouth_.

He cried out as his climax snapped through him like a whip.

As he brought Gabriel to the brink and pushed him over it, Jack felt with no shortage of cheer that he was desecrating this over-decorated royal bedroom.

“ _Fuck,_ ” Gabriel panted, his damp cock hypersensitive as he came down from his blissful peak. “You got all that from a book?”

“I’m a good student,” Jack said smugly, still draped over Gabriel’s gorgeous thighs.

“Studious enough to have a bottle of oil in reach?”

“Of course,” he chuckled, slinking towards a sturdy chest of drawers. He retrieved a small glass bottle and tossed it towards the bed.

Gabriel caught it and gave him a very wicked grin. “C’mere, Your Highness.”

Jack’s eyes went soft and heated as he climbed back onto the comforter. Gabriel caught his chin and the blond met him in an eager kiss that broke when Gabriel rolled them over. He knelt between Jack’s thighs, twirling the glass bottle as dexterously as he spun his knives.

“Hands over your head,” the guard growled. “Hold onto that ugly headboard.”

“I’ll have you know it’s an antique,” Jack retorted, even as his heart thudded in anticipation, even as Gabriel could see plain as day what that commanding tone of voice did to him. His biceps flexed as he gripped the carved wood.

“Would look better with you tied to it.” Gabriel smirked down at him. “There’s that blush.”

Jack looked away with a shy grin.

A hand slippery with oil wrapped around his cock, yanking a surprised gasp from him. Gabriel squeezed and pulled, creating a tight, hot tunnel with his fist, until Jack was fucking into it, rigid enough to explode.

Gabriel slowed. Jack’s whine was cut short as another hand stroked over his balls and then lower, sliding along the sensitive taint, petting the hole softly. Then with more pressure.

Jack shivered at the sensation, sizzles of pleasure crackling through his whole body. He gripped the headboard like a lifeline and moaned loudly when a well-oiled finger nudged into his entrance, inching through the resistance to bury itself in him.

“Have you touched yourself like this?” Gabriel asked, eyes dark.

Jack felt his already flushed face turn even redder. “Yes.”

“How many fingers?”

He panted as Gabriel added a second, stretching him. “Th-three.”

That hot slick grip returned to his dick and another throaty groan escaped him.

“What were you thinking about?”

“ _Ah—!_ You! Thought about you touching me like this. Imagined you fucking m—”

The rest of his sentence disintegrated into a choked noise as Gabriel adjusted his angle, sending a volt of pure stunning light up the prince’s spine. He tipped his head back, lost to it.

“So good for me,” he purred, relishing how Jack squirmed and bore down on his fingers, desperate for more. “Eyes open, Your Highness.”

Jack did as he was told.

He watched with blown pupils as Gabriel in all his reality, gorgeous and naked, unraveled him with both hands. The strokes of one aligned with the thrusts from the other, chipping away at Jack’s coherency until sudden powerful ecstasy crashed over him and drowned his senses. He didn’t know whether to thrust up or push down as wave after wave wracked his body.

Eventually, they reached for the washbasin and cloth to drowsily clean themselves up.

“At least we got our clothes off this time,” Jack laughed after he managed to get his breath back, the stars still clearing from his vision.

Gabriel wasn’t sure whether or not he should sleep here. The silky linen felt too expensive on his skin, catching on his calluses, higher quality bedding than his station would ever permit.

“I can hear you thinking.” Jack pressed a long kiss to the nape of his neck and curled into his back, slotting their knees together. “I mean, logically, it’s far more secure to have you in my bed rather than the next room.”

“Hard to argue with logic,” Gabriel said, bringing Jack’s knuckles to his smiling lips.

Jack drifted off, peaceful and happy and unwilling to let Gabriel go, even in sleep.

Though Gabriel’s chest swelled with joy, panicky dread pooled heavy and cold in his gut.

He was in too deep. Way too deep.

He’d been dreamily concocting ways to shield Jack from the rebellion, ways to assuage Akande’s determination to slaughter every highborn man and woman, ways to knit his family and his lover into a cohesive unit. But that foolishness had to stop.

He was going to have to choose between Talon and Jack.

And he’d have to do it soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have some undiluted fluff because there’s definitely no angst coming up for these two. None at all. I’ll probably give you a little more fluff in the next chapter too, just in case of emergency. A Fluff Aid Kit. 
> 
> :D
> 
> …I’ll show myself out.


	14. Chapter 14

Bliss and dread chased each other in circles like crazed ferrets. Gabriel ricocheted between the two, sometimes several times a minute, but he still had no answers for the conundrum he’d dug himself into. He didn’t dare get within Olivia’s range, unsure how she’d respond to his treasonous thoughts. She was fond of him, sure, but he doubted she’d take kindly to his shifting perspective on Akande.

The Talon Commander had given no indication that he’d planned the bandit attacks or Reinhardt’s bullheaded response to them, but the benefit to their rebellion was too tangible to ignore. It was getting harder and harder to think the King would have concocted a scheme like framing Talon for robbing his own people. But Gabriel still couldn’t rule the possibility out. The King had framed his father. Had executed his father. While Akande was underhanded, the King wasn’t an innocent by any means.

Gabriel slingshotted from dread to bliss. Jack’s breath quickened as Gabriel sucked at the soft skin of his throat, nipping and licking and dragging his teeth. The prince was grateful for the sturdy bookshelf at his back, grateful the library was empty, that the doors would open with a loud squeak if someone came in. Gabriel seemed to have mapped every sensitive spot on his body already. A hot tongue dipped into his clavicle and he urged Gabriel closer with the leg he had hitched around his guard’s hip.

Every encounter had chipped away at Jack’s hesitance, his fear that Gabriel was only going along with his desires because he thought he had to, making him bolder and brighter and hungry in a way that made Gabriel want to possess him. In every sense of the word. His wicked prince.

There was no prying that title off him, as much as they both wished they could. Jack’s very blood damned him as royalty. Even if the King disowned him, the potential for reinstatement would linger forever in his veins, charming allies and summoning enemies like wolves to meat. Shrewd men like Akande would never lose sight of the threat that Jack’s birthright presented.

How to convince the Talon Commander to let him live? How to make Jack understand the necessity of a bloody revolution? How to make Jack make that breathy whine again?

Bliss. Dread. Bliss. Dread. Bliss. Dread.

Well, at least there was one person he could talk to about this.

Jesse stared at him for several seconds and then let out a long, low whistle.

“Oh boy.”

“I know.”

“And here I thought for sure no one could beat me at bein’ reckless.”

“You set a high bar, in fairness.”

Standing at attention by one of the great hall’s pillars, their eyes swept over the dinner gathering to locate their wards. The noise provided plenty of cover for their low, hushed chatter. Ashe, normally glued to her twin’s side, had irritably escorted Genji back to the Emperor’s rooms.

“What’re you gonna do?” Jesse asked.

“Still figuring that out.”

“You ain’t got more than two weeks or so.”

Gabriel sighed. “What are _you_ going to do?”

“Well, odds are old Sojiro will pledge to support our side, right? Especially when he learns Vishkar’s thrown in their lot with us. So, I don’t really have to do anythin’. Hanzo’s not in the crossfire.”

“Does he know we’re the reason his father is sick?”

Jesse ground his boot heel into the floor, a tight look on his face. “Well, no, haven’t really mentioned that.”

“If he finds out, he’s not going to compliantly align with Talon. And odds are, he’ll find out one way or another. He could wind up in the crossfire quicker than you think.”

“Well, I’ll deal with that when it happens.”

“And if comes down to Talon or him?”

“What is this, a damn interrogation? It won’t come to that. Even if Shimada don’t align with us, they ain’t gonna outright oppose us, not from our own soil. What about you? You’re sayin’ if it comes down to Talon or Jack, you’d…?” 

“I don’t know!” Gabriel hissed.

Jesse studied him, eyes narrowed in thought. Gabriel surveyed the hall again to escape the scrutiny.

After a few moments, the younger guard huffed out a dry laugh and shook his head in disbelief.

“Y’know, I was worried when you first showed up to cards in the kitchen. I’d just wanted to relax away from the Talon fox den with all its squabblin’, and I thought for sure you were gonna ruin all that. No way Akande’s right-hand man was gonna be shootin’ shit with a royal for any reason other than to double cross him. But then you eased up, smiled more, put my worries to bed. You really up and became Jack’s friend. Left me scratchin’ my head how that all added up, until one day it clicked for me that it ain’t just spite drivin’ you to do this thing, not just revenge. It’s hope. You’d bloody your hands eight ways from Sunday if it meant makin’ the world a better place.”

“Where are you going with this?”

“Think you can hold onto that optimism for the world if Jack ain’t in it?”

The question left Gabriel momentarily stunned. Because Jesse had hit the nail on the head. Could he savor a paradise of equality if it cost Jack’s life? Even if he helped Talon create a perfect utopia that solved poverty and hunger, the thought of living in that reality without Jack punched him in the gut.

“I’m not going to be able to not save him,” Gabriel said, the words awkward but the tone revealing everything.

“Akande’s rebellion ain’t stoppin’ for the likes of romantic fools like us. It’s happenin’ and that’s a fact,” Jesse said soberly. “But I might have an idea. Doubt you’ll like it much though.”

As he listened to Jesse outline his suggestion, Gabriel kept his gaze on Jack’s face, handsome and golden in the candlelight. Those blue eyes gleamed like black satin as they raised to meet his.

Not for the first time, Jack considered how unfair it was that Gabriel could ogle him all he wanted in public while he had to temper his attentions. Guards were expected to watch their charges; princes were expected to ignore their inferiors.

But it was a struggle for Jack not to openly stare back at him in moments like this.

Gabriel’s thumbs were hooked into his beltloops, those seductive fingers splayed over the tops of his thighs, casually framing the bulge in his black leather pants. Jack forced himself to refocus on his dessert to quell the lust rising through him, but all he could think about was eating the strawberries and cream out of the valley of Gabriel’s pecs, following the sweet trail lower.

“Mm, and then what would you do?” Gabriel laughed, though it stuttered out as Jack’s tongue lathed along the seam of his pelvis to the root of his cock.

They’d barely entered the prince’s chambers before Jack shoved Gabriel down to sit on the edge of his bed and dropped between his knees.

“After I licked you clean?” Jack considered. He tilted his head to lap at the shaft’s underside with long, sensuous sweeps, thrilled at the way Gabriel went languid and taut at the same time. “Probably tease you like this until I convinced you to fuck me.”

Gabriel’s eyes flew open, a dark surge of heat in his belly. Mouth still pressed to his cock, Jack was looking up at him with a greedy expression in his eyes.

“Wouldn’t need too much convincing,” Gabriel managed to rasp out.

He didn’t have to ask if Jack was sure. The prince was already pushing the bottle of olive oil into his hand and dragging the rest of their clothes off and invading Gabriel’s arms, lips devouring his until Gabriel was on fire with how badly he wanted this.

Still, he mindfully eased two and then three fingers into Jack, stretching that delicious tightness, taking his time in spite of the prince’s squirming and pleasure-rattled begging. Flat on his back, Jack rode the gentle waves with toe-curling anticipation, never being allowed crest, sweat breaking out on his forehead, until _finally_ a callused hand on his hip flipped him over.

He felt the blunt head graze his hole, slick with oil, and it set off a strange sizzling feeling that began at the base of his spine and zinged up to buzz at his skull.

He clutched at the silk sheets, face screwed up, as Gabriel pushed inside him, the burn painful, the sensation as mortifying as it was delicious. Gabriel was big, bigger than his fingers, far too big. Jack was gasping in air, struggling to relax, to accept the intrusion. Gabriel’s lips were soft between his shoulder blades, the kisses hot and wet and just distracting enough to edge that last bit of tension from Jack’s muscles. Gabriel slid in a few more centimeters, fitting more completely inside the tight passage.

A startling volt of ecstasy shot up Jack’s spine and he let out a rough cry.

“Are you okay?” Gabriel asked, panting from the effort of keeping still.

“Uh, more than,” Jack huffed. “Keep… move a li– there, ah, _fuck_.”

The short sound Jack made, something close to a whimper, wiped out everything from Gabriel’s mind except the thought that he wanted to coax that sound out of Jack again and again. He gently pulled back and rocked forward, and Jack choked on his next breath, clenching hard enough that Gabriel grit his teeth against the onslaught of sensations threatening his control. Jack released an exhale and relaxed again, and Gabriel continued his shallow thrusts.

The prince felt like butter in a pan. This was easily the most degrading and the most liberating position he’d ever been in. He was being fucked. He was at the mercy of the strong hands pinning his shoulders down and the knees keeping his thighs apart, at the mercy of the cock sliding in and out of him, and oh god, he loved it, loved that it was Gabriel.

“More,” he groaned out, face burning bright.

To his body’s dismay, Gabriel’s thrusting slowed to a teasing crawl. Jack tried to buck up into him, but Gabriel moved back slightly whenever he did. He heard a low chuckle.

“What was that, Your Highness?” was growled into his ear, tipping sparks over his skin.

“ _Please, Gabriel, please._ ”

The sparks erupted into flames at the sound of himself begging, relinquishing control, and Gabriel hissed in appreciation before picking up the pace again, each thrust stoking at the flames consuming Jack’s body and mind like wildfire, until he was blank, until he was nothing but that sizzling feeling, which spread and brightened and tightened and finally _shattered_.

Gabriel fucked in with a profound sense of awe as Jack convulsed and came, burying screams in the comforter, utterly lost to the pleasure Gabriel was drilling into him. The ecstasy dragging over Jack’s nerve endings soon clawed through Gabriel as well and he spilled, forceful and hot, inside his lover.

The way Jack moaned and arched into him, craving every pulse, was everything.

Tears bit at the back of Gabriel’s eyes as he curled protectively over Jack’s back, nuzzling into his sweat-slicked skin, kissing his neck and shoulders, and trying with every fiber of his being to love him enough to make up for the unfairness of the world.

Jack planted a long kiss to the soft inside of Gabriel’s wrist. “I love you,” he murmured, rough with emotion.

Gabriel eased out and turned Jack over to kiss him properly, cradling his face, thumbs outlining his cheeks. Tangled together on top of the sheets, their groins messy and wet from each other, Jack settled into him with an enamored sigh, bonelessly happy. His eyes lingered half-closed when the kiss broke, so it didn’t click for him at first what Gabriel was doing.

He was stunned out of his drowsiness when he realized Gabriel was slipping the leather cord of his necklace over his own head. Jack caught the ornate brass ring, warm from the heat of their bodies, in a loose fist and stared at him.

“You…you can’t give me this. It’s your mother’s,” he said, heart threatening to explode out of his chest.

Gabriel gave him a smile like sunlight and tightened the cord. “My father told me she wanted me to give it to someone I wanted to spend my life with. Even if we can’t actually marry, that’s you. I just want you to remember that no matter what happens, I love you.”

Overwhelmed, eyes shining wet, Jack pulled him into a kiss. Then another one. And another. Until their cheeks hurt from smiling into each other’s mouths.

As Jack drifted off to sleep with his palm still pressing the ring into the skin above his heart, Gabriel stroked his blond hair and felt the future loom cold and cruel.

Gabriel knew Jack would never forgive him for what he was about to do. Grief stabbed him as he contemplated the feeling of Jack pulling away. Of Jack hating him. But Gabriel would bear it, somehow. Because it would save Jack’s life. And that was all that mattered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You didn’t think I’d do nothing with that wedding ring Gabriel’s been wearing around his neck this whole time, did you?
> 
> Come hang out with me on Twitter! I'm @[MsTrick16](https://twitter.com/MsTrick16)


	15. Chapter 15

Jack floated through the following days in a haze. He felt like he was drunk all the time, desperate to feel Gabriel inside him again, that pure electric pleasure that was like nothing else on the planet. He made up the flimsiest of excuses to get Gabriel alone: forgetting things so they’d have to return to his room, searching for some tome hidden deep in the library stacks, inspecting the far-flung corners of the woods for signs of trespassers.

He expected his guard to chastise him for taking stupid risks, but Gabriel denied him nothing, eagerly returning his kisses and stroking every inch of his body and bending him over any horizontal surface he wanted. But the sweetest sensation was the feel of the brass ring between the press of their chests, in the same place it had always been but now beneath Jack’s shirt instead.

He fell asleep smiling while Gabriel held him with tight, brutal sincerity and murmured “I love you” into his crook of his neck.

Screaming catapulted him out of his dreams.

Jack bolted upright in bed and immediately registered that Gabriel wasn’t beside him. Struggling to quell the fear that his mother had somehow made Gabriel vanish into thin air, Jack lit a candle and trekked across the cold floor to the antechamber. It was empty. And locked from the inside.

A paper thin sliver of relief settled in Jack’s gut. Gabriel must have wraithed under the door. Which meant he left of his own free will. But why?

Just as he began to think the screams had all been in his head, more terrified shouting began outside. He set the candle down and unlatched the shutters to peer down into the courtyard.

His heart jammed up into his throat.

Several members of the royal guard lay bloodied and dead on the cobblestones. Fiery torches gleamed across dozens of knights in pale blue and gold armor as they marched in through the castle’s main doors. They were being besieged. By Vishkar, going by the symbol on the banners.

Jack flung open the trunk that housed his own armor and was half-dressed before he realized in bewilderment that this wasn’t his gear. It was Gabriel’s. His custom blue equipment was nowhere to be found.

Jack was at a loss. He could understand Gabriel locking him into his rooms for his own safety, but why take his armor? Confused, he nevertheless continued pulling the black leather pieces on, tightening the straps to fit his leaner figure. The Talon sigil glinted from each shoulder.

Jack fit the helm over his head before taking his sword in hand and creeping down the hallway. Whatever had prompted Vishkar to attack, he had to find Angela and get her to safety. But when he reached her rooms, she was nowhere to be seen. Fear dragged cold fingers up his spine.

He tightened his grip on his sword and made his way down through the stone corridors, towards the cacophony, the yelling and crying growing louder with every step.

He rounded a corner just in time to see a Talon guard slitting his cousin Matthew’s throat. Blood sprayed out in a cheerful red arc before his body was casually tossed aside with a terrible thud.

Jack stared, breath frozen in his lungs, his mind an echoing, screaming canyon of white.

“Sorry, buddy, that was the last of the dukes,” the black-clad guard said with satisfaction. “I’m sure there’s plenty more royals to kill downstairs. Hell, they’re probably stringing up the King and Queen now. You coming?”

Jack couldn’t speak, but numbly began following the guard down the corridor.

He then drew back his sword and with one clean thrust, skewered him through the back of the neck. A weak point in Talon armor that Gabriel had taught him. Jack studied the black gloves on his hands instead of the body of the man he’d just killed.

The pieces began coming together into a sickening picture. One that meant Gabriel…

Jack corkscrewed every fucking emotion into a box and slammed the lid.

He needed to find Angela. And baby Fareeha. And Lena. And anyone else he could save from this nightmare.

Since the helm hid most of his face, other Talon guards and Vishkar troops he encountered didn’t give him a second glance. The temptation to plunge his sword into every single one of them was so strong, his hands shook.

Jack wondered how far Reinhardt’s company was, how long it would take for news of the attack to reach him, how quickly they could rally to the castle’s defense. They couldn’t be more than a day’s ride from here. At that moment, Jack was exceedingly grateful that Ana had insisted on riding out with Reinhardt on his justice-driven crusade.

The great hall was a stunning inferno. Flames greedily licked over the ornate thrones and the tapestries that hung on the walls. The oak furniture crackled and spat and burned, giving off great billows of heat and smoke that sent him staggering back.

Something moved in the fire, slithering through it, gold scales shining white hot.

Jack didn’t give himself time to consider whether the dragon was real or a hallucination. He ran.

The great doors leading to the courtyard were flung open, but a crowd clogged the path, all sporting Vishkar blue or Talon black. There seemed to be at least two hundred Talon guards, far more than the small force that resided inside the compound. The bandits, Jack realized, queasy and furious at how easily they’d been tricked.

He pushed through the throng, clambering for a view of what was holding their attention, stomach sinking further every second.

Several people stood on the raised stone dais where proclamations were announced. His parents were up there, restrained by bulky guards, though Angela was mercifully absent.

Akande Ogundimu towered over them all, tall and godlike in the flickering torchlight.

And it was just impossible that any of this was happening because at his side was Gabriel.

He was wearing combat gear that Jack had never seen before, all black leather with steel accents, a long coat and spiked gauntlets. Several belts looped around his waist, studded with knife holsters. A hood kept his face half in shadow. That mouth Jack knew so well was set in a grim, determined line.

It took Jack a few minutes to register that Akande was speaking, his booming baritone damning the monarchy for its greed and its self-serving laws and its mistreatment of people.

 _It’s all lies!_ Jack wanted to yell. He was frantic but he didn’t know what to do. Rushing the podium in an attempt to save his parents would only get him killed as well. And then who would help Angela?

His mother screamed and wept, dressed only in a silk nightgown. The crowd roared as Akande dragged her up by her hair until her feet lifted off the ground.

Unable to move and unable to intervene and unable to look away, Jack felt tears slide down the inside of the helm, sticking the metal to his cheeks. He had little love for the King and Queen but they were still his parents.

Akande plunged an enormous dagger into his mother’s pale throat. It tore clean through the flesh, a gory mess, stopped only by the spine.

On all sides, the crowd cheered and hollered. It was all Jack could do to stay standing. His vision blurred. Bile burned the back of his tongue.

“I must give this final honor to my right hand man,” Akande was saying when the noise died down. “Whose father was framed by the King for a crime he didn’t commit and then executed for it by that very same King.”

The King yelled obscenities and denials, red in the face, as the crowd booed.

That couldn’t be true, Jack thought, hollow. His father wasn’t clever enough to pull something like that off.

Gabriel spun one of his knives into his hand, dexterous as always, and a smile crept onto his face. Jack’s stomach twisted in horror.

The King begged and bargained and pleaded but Gabriel’s blade dragged across his flabby throat all the same. The body dropped like a sack of flour. The crowd cheered and bellowed and stamped their feet.

Akande placed a pleased hand on Gabriel’s shoulder and proudly announced:

“This isn’t even the first king he’s disposed of! You may also thank Gabriel for liberating Shimada of their gaudy emperor, not to mention executing Prince John.”

Jack couldn’t make sense of the words, but the mob picked up a chant:

“Reaper of Kings! Reaper of Kings! Reaper of Kings!”

There was an enormous crunch as something collapsed inside the great hall, blasting the windows to smithereens with a burst of heat and showering glass on the courtyard. 

People scattered, giving Jack the chance to reenter the castle unnoticed. Every one of his organs had turned to stone. Gabriel had been inside him, making love to him, kissing the underside of his jaw, just hours ago, knowing that he was going to…

Jack clenched his teeth together but couldn’t stop the roar that exploded out of him. Or the hot tears. He staggered onwards, because there was nothing else to do but hope against hope that Angela was hiding in the library.

A dragon was guarding the mahogany doors, glowing gold and bright, as tall as a man. Jack was pretty sure this time that it wasn’t a hallucination. But he still had no idea what to do with it. Shimada was the only country with dragons and even there they were exceedingly rare.

“How do you like my new pet? Or should I say pets?” Asked a voice like cold river water.

Jack shivered. Where had he heard that voice before? Wary, he turned and his heart leapt in relief.

A redheaded woman stood there, holding his little sister's hand. Angela was safe and sound.

“Angie!” He cried, racing to her.

She shrank in fear and tucked herself into the strange woman’s side.

“No, Angela, it’s me,” he said, yanking off the helm and reaching for her.

But still she frowned mistrustfully and wrapped her arms around the woman’s waist.

“I did say 'pets',” the redhead said.

Jack’s focus finally landed on her, taking in the pale elfin features, icy blue eyes and purple silk robes. The back of his neck tickled. There was an unmistakable aura of magic around her.

“You’re Moira,” Jack realized. “You’re the witch. What did you do to Angela? Why doesn’t she know who I am?”

He brandished his sword at her, but she didn’t blink. The dragon hissed behind him.

“She was lost. I thought I’d take her home.”

“Her home is with me!”

“Oh?” Moira asked, a smile on her lips. “But Gabriel gave her to me.”

“He would _never_ …” But Jack’s sentence fell to pieces with the vision of his father’s blood spewing over Gabriel’s knife.

“That dragon is courtesy of him too,” Moira added. “Though granted, I had to extract it from Sojiro personally.”

“Why?” Was all Jack could manage, his heart shredding.

“Hm? Did Gabriel never tell you what he traded for those handy abilities of his? Three debts. A lock of the princess’s hair. A potion slipped into the emperor’s drink. And the third…Your life.”

No.

Even after everything. Even after seeing into the depths of Gabriel’s darkest, cruelest nature, Jack couldn’t believe that. _No matter what happens, I love you._

“He didn’t promise you my life,” Jack said.

“Are we sure about that?”

“Yes,” he growled, raising his sword again.

Moira chuckled. “Well, that’s not going to stop me from taking it. What better payment than the person he loves?”

She brushed Angela off and the girl watched with mild curiosity as the witch prepared to kill her brother. A sphere of toxic red and black energy gathered in her hand, but Jack stood his ground.

The ball of energy hurtled towards him. All that training was put to good use as he dodged, evading her next two attacks while maneuvering closer.

There! An opening! He swung. But instead of metal meeting flesh, he only sliced through dark mist. She could wraith too.

Too late, he spun to meet her next assault and she thrust a toxic sphere straight at his heart. He knew instinctively that his steel chest plate would be no obstacle to the poisonous magic.

But a blast of gold light sent Moira flying backwards.

Jack gasped, stunned.

Beneath layers of cloth and metal, Gabriel’s mother’s wedding ring burned warm against his skin, like a stone heated in the sun.

He didn’t have time to question why. He raced towards Angela, but Moira appeared in front of her, snarling in fury. With a few harsh rapid words, they both dissolved into mist.

“No!” Jack yelled.

But they were gone.

A blast of fire cut through the wisps of smoke. Jack twisted away from the dragon’s scorching flame. With an unearthly screech, it leapt towards him. He flung up his arms as it knocked him back, but couldn’t stop the knife-sharp claws from viciously slashing across his face.

The pain was shocking, like nothing he’d felt before. The only thought that broke through the white hot agony was:

_So, that’s what that dream was about._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aw poor Jack


	16. Chapter 16

The air was punched out of Jack’s lungs as he landed on his back, eyesight blurred from pain. Claws dug into his armor, the weight of the dragon pressing him down, glowing gold and bright. Scorching hot breath blasted over his face, slick with his own blood. He tasted it in his mouth. His hand weakly scrabbled across the floor for his sword but found nothing.

A blast of blue light filled the hallway and a voice rang out:

_“Ryu ga ore ni kuru yo!”_

The gold dragon roared and reared up, bounding off Jack towards…Hanzo? Jack blinked the eye not stinging from blood, trying to clear his vision. A second dragon hissed from in front of Hanzo, this one vibrant blue, and met the gold creature in a clash of scales and teeth.

Small but calloused hands checked his chest for wounds. Jack passed out for a few moments as a makeshift bandage was wound around his face. Every pull of the silk was unfiltered agony.

“Sorry,” Genji said. “I’ve never done this before. Angie just sort of told me how to do it.”

Jack tossed his head in pain and caught a glimpse of something he couldn’t process: the gold dragon was slowly becoming as blue as the other, their fighting now more like a dance as they twined and untwined. Sweat poured over Hanzo’s chest. He had both hands extended out, palms facing the two creatures, a fierce look of concentration on his face.

“Do you know where Angie is?” Genji asked, earnest eyes wide.

“Gone…” Jack mumbled.

“Oh..." He swallowed. "Can you stand up?”

The boy was already tugging Jack to his feet. Another blinding blast of light whited out his meager vision. When the spots cleared, the dragons were gone, and Hanzo was kneeling on the floor, gritting his teeth and gasping, clutching at his left arm, where an intricate tattoo glowed hot as metal in a fire.

Jack staggered, barely kept upright by Genji’s small form. He blinked and he was between both brothers as they raced down the corridor, then a different corridor. Frantic, they yelled at each other in their native language. Jack just wanted to lie down. He was so tired. His consciousness blurred in and slipped out, an unreliable tide.

“Jesse!” Hanzo yelled, snapping Jack to the present.

He tilted his head and peered through the bloody silk and the pounding pain, stumbling as Hanzo released his side. The tapestries hanging from the ceilings were on fire, like portals to Hell. Burning threads rained down on them.

Jesse McCree was braced with his back against a stone wall, cradling a bundle in his arms, hunching over it protectively as his twin sister advanced on him.

“What did I tell you about ‘em bein' cockroaches?”

“She’s just a baby!”

“Ugh,” Ashe scoffed, raising a large axe with both hands.

She swung. The steel caught the firelight. There was a burst of bright scarlet blood and an ungodly holler of pain. Darkness washed over Jack’s consciousness again.

He was looking up at tree branches dividing up moonlit clouds, half carried, half dragged. Everything hurt.

Finally horizontal. Bedding underneath him. Body limp and heart empty, he let sleep pull him down and this time, stayed there.

Pale morning light was coasting over the oaken ceiling by the time he woke up, his head throbbing, his throat dry. Breathing slowly, he squeezed and released the rest of his muscles, and found to his relief that he seemed to be mostly in one piece. Wincing, he traced the bandages wrapping his face. They were fresh and clean, not the filthy silk Genji had patched him up with.

Dizzy, he eked upright and took in his surroundings. He was in a handsome wooden cabin, well-crafted and spaciously designed. Someone was lying on the pile of bedding next to him. Jesse. There was something wrong about him. Jack squinted through his headache and the weak light, and realized with a gut-punching lurch that Jesse’s left arm was almost completely gone. Severed halfway down his bicep and bleeding into the wad of bandages cocooning it.

“Oh good, you’re awake,” Genji said, dark eyes sagging and face pale. He held a cup of water with a strange narrow cylinder sticking out of it. “Ingrid told me to give you this. You can drink through this thing. She called it a straw but it’s not actually made of straw. It’s metal.”

Jack fit the tube through a gap in his dressings and gratefully sucked down the contents of the entire cup, the cool liquid an indescribable relief to his raw throat.

“What happened?” He managed to grunt out, looking at Jesse.

Genji’s eyes flooded with tears and he wiped at them, looking so young and lost in that moment. Hanzo appeared behind his brother, his left arm in a sling that appeared singed around the edges, and pulled him close with his free hand.

“Jesse defied his sister to save the infant princess. Ashe attacked him in retaliation,” Hanzo explained in clipped speech, a furious edge to his weariness. “What kind of monster attempts to kill their own brother?”

A somber beat went by before Jack asked about Hanzo’s injury. He hesitated before answering but apparently saw no need for secrecy at this point.

“Spirit dragons are passed down through the royal line of Shimada. As you witnessed, these spirits can manifest outside of their vessel’s body on occasion. When Father…Whenever an emperor dies, his spirit dragon instinctually moves into the body of his heir. However, that witch woman corrupted the flow with whatever poison she infected him with.”

“You mean that Gabriel infected him with,” Jack said dully.

“…I did not realize Reyes was the one who poisoned him.”

“He owed the witch a debt.”

“Ah.” Hanzo’s jaw tightened. He glanced at Jesse with an unreadable blend of emotions in his eyes.

“But it was the witch that took Father’s dragon from him!” Genji protested. “I watched her do it from my hiding place. She was the one who – who killed…”

“Whatever that concoction was, it severed the relationship between my father’s body and his dragon,” Hanzo continued, letting the boy burrow into his side. “And allowed her to not only extract it but command it. Restraining it and coaxing it to merge with my body was…unpleasant. Fortunately, my own dragon was vitally helpful in that regard.”

“I’m sorry for your loss. Your father was honorable, far more than mine,” Jack said, flinching away from the memory of Gabriel’s smile as he slit the King’s throat.

Hanzo gave him a steady look. “I cannot say I’m personally bereaved over the murder of your parents, but I am deeply sorry you’ve been burdened with such immense suffering.”

Jack again saw Angela vanish in front of him, again heard his mother’s body thud against the ground, again felt the sickening emptiness of recognizing Gabriel up there on the execution platform.

“Where are we?” He asked, desperate to wrench himself away from the sinkhole of emotions threatening to swallow him.

“The household of Sir Torbjörn Lindholm apparently, deep in the woods.”

“Brigitte Lindholm’s father?” Jack frowned in confusion and the agony of his broken skin nearly blinded him. “How did we get here?”

“We walked all night. Olivia guided us. I didn’t trust her at first, of course. She _is_ a member of Talon. But she said some things…” Hanzo again looked at Jesse, his eyes soft. “She was truthful about her intentions to lead us to safety and to be honest, we had few options. Though I suggest we not linger here longer than we have to.”

Jack’s head was spinning and his heart was collapsing into itself, but he managed to croak out his gratitude to the brothers for saving his life.

The following week crawled by on a current of dread and fear and pain. Lady Ingrid Lindholm, blonde and competent, monitored Jack and Jesse with scientific efficiency and usually with baby Fareeha balanced on her hip. Although Torbjörn grumbled mightily about his secluded home being invaded by such politically charged guests, he gruffly measured Jesse’s torso and set about crafting him a prosthetic arm. Clanging from his expansive basement workshop could be heard at all hours.

The physical and mental shock of losing his arm to his sister’s cruelty kept Jesse blank and silent for several days. But one of the first things he asked after he started coming back to himself was:

“Princess Angela’s not here? How’d you get out then?”

Jack was baffled, and assumed the younger guard was still lost in the delirious paths of his mind, but—

“No, no, there was a plan,” Jesse insisted, feverish. “The night everythin’ went down, after Gabriel left your rooms, he woke your sister up and told her what was going to happen.”

“He told _Angela_?” Jack echoed, bewildered.

“He gave her the key to your rooms so she could sneak in and you could both escape before Vishkar knocked down the castle doors. Gabe said he knew you wouldn’t stick around the castle and put Angela at risk, that you’d be motivated to get her to safety.”

“I woke up to screaming,” Jack said flatly.

“But Gabriel told me he’d woken Angela up!” Jesse insisted.

“The witch must have gotten to her before she could make it to my rooms.”

Jack turned away, a lump in his throat. He badly wanted to believe that Gabriel had devised a plan to save Angela, but he just wasn’t sure he could. Betrayal like acid ate through his bones. Gabriel had lied to him. Gabriel had been lying to him. For months, maybe even years.

Though his face was healing at a steady pace thanks to Ingrid’s care and the first aid basics Genji had learned from Angela, Jack writhed when left to his own thoughts. His emotions tore him to pieces, yanked him in a million directions.

Pulsing hot as the sun was the terror over Angela’s fate and worry over the whereabouts of Reinhardt and Ana. There had been little love between himself and his parents, and Jack found he was unable to truly mourn the loss of the King. But the Queen, for all her vapid self-centeredness, was still his mother, the woman who birthed him. She’d done what she considered was best for her children. It startled him how much he missed her when he’d felt nearly no warmth towards her for so many years.

And then there was the skull-splitting heart-crunching storm of feelings that howled every time he thought of Gabriel.

Jack’s hand closed over the brass ring hanging from the leather cord around his neck, intending to tear it off and throw it out the window. But it had saved his life. _Gabriel_ had saved his life, had left Jack a suit of Talon armor in which to escape the massacre and somehow tricked Akande into thinking he’d murdered Jack.

_No matter what happens, I love you._

Tears soaked Jack’s bandages as he turned those words over and over in his mind. Because they were true. The way Gabriel had sounded and looked as he said them…every drop of blood in Jack believed him. But what did that matter when balanced against the atrocities Gabriel had committed? It was impossible to love the person who killed his father and gifted his sister to an evil witch. Even if Jesse was telling the truth about the attempt to save her, there was no denying that Gabriel had given Moira a lock of Angela’s hair.

And yet. The awful thing was that Jack couldn’t seem to _stop_ loving him. It was infuriating how his body still yearned for Gabriel’s hands, how he rolled over in bed reaching for him, how Gabriel kissed him in his dreams.

He wasn’t sure what was worse. The tender scenes of affection his mind conjured, the gentle touches and smiling words, or the grisly, excruciating scenarios: Gabriel in wraith form snaking over and inside his body until Jack’s mouth and ass were full and raw with pleasure, Gabriel fucking him on the execution platform next to the corpses of his parents, Gabriel pounding ecstasy into him and dragging a knife across his jugular at the moment of his climax.

Jack woke up retching and crying and unforgivably aroused.

He missed Gabriel and hated himself for it, knew it was sick of him. Hours he should have been sleeping were spent staring at the ceiling instead. He also harbored a persistent, chilling fear that Moira would somehow find him through his dreams the way she had all those years ago, when she revealed the fire and blood that awaited him.

Due to this insomnia, Jack was the only one already awake when, in the middle of the night, someone began banging loudly on the Lindholms’ front door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eyyy, some questions get answered even as some more mysteries pop up
> 
>  _Ryu ga ore ni kuru yo!_ = Dragon, come to me!


	17. Chapter 17

As Gabriel strode into the great hall, Junkrat skipped out with one of Jack’s crowns slipping down over his eyes, giddy laughter echoing up to the high ceiling. Gold ornaments tumbled out of his arms and were gathered up by the long-suffering Roadhog.

In the bleak daylight, the castle lost its status and intimidation. It really was just a collection of stone and wood, just a large house. And at the moment it was being robbed and ransacked of anything that wasn’t bolted down. _These trinkets and trappings meant nothing to Jack_ , Gabriel reminded himself, refusing to accept guilt for this particular crime. 

At the head of the hall, speaking with Ashe and several other high-ranking Talon lieutenants stood Akande – or Doomfist, as he was meant to be called now. Gabriel couldn’t quite get into the habit of using it. However, people seemed to have no issue deploying _his_ new name.

“Ah, Reaper,” Akande greeted in his booming voice. “Give us a moment to finish here.”

Gabriel smirked. He had to admit, he kind of liked it. He also liked being able to fold his arms and slouch against a pillar while he waited instead of being expected to stand at stiff attention.

Akande returned to his men: “Your legions should cover the entire country by the end of the season, lingering for extra time in the designated cities…”

Of their own volition, Gabriel’s eyes drifted. A heavy stone of longing sank in his gut as he peered beneath his hood at where Jack sat during dinners. If the fates were kind, they’d never see each other again. Jack would take Angela far away to live in some foreign town with a big library where they could be free from the tyranny and bigotry that dogged their royal upbringing. And Gabriel would remain here, helping Akande to create…

“…Conflict and war is the crucible through which we evolve,” Akande was saying. “It is how legends are forged. Those who fall will be forgotten. Those who rise up? Their names will be remembered forever. You have your instructions. Go.”

Gabriel frowned, waiting until the lieutenants traipsed out of the hall before speaking. “I thought the goal here was to rip out the monarchy and replace it with something better.”

“I suppose the question is what you define as better,” Akande chuckled and ran a hand over the back of the ornate throne. With his straight spine and white-enameled armor, he appeared more regal than the King ever had.

“A fairer, freer society.”

“Then we’re on the same page.”

“Look,” Gabriel said, frustrated. “I know long-term strategy isn’t my strong suit, so please clue me in on how inciting chaos across the country leads to that.”

“It’s a simple concept. Nothing can be fairer or freer than the law of nature. The strong prey on the weak, however, true strength can only be defined in war. You saw what a parasite the King was. Is that true strength? That’s what an easy life does to people, fattens them up for the slaughter. Once Talon razes a few towns and puts them on their toes, we’ll see what our people are really made of. The ones that survive and thrive will be magnificent.”

Ice cold dread hooked into the base of Gabriel’s spine and began creeping up it with needle-like claws.

“What? No, we were supposed to _build_ something.”

“We were?” Akande echoed with an amused smile.

“A way of governing the country so that people would be treated equally under the law. That’s what you said.”

“And that is what I’m creating. I don’t recall ever promising it would be a utopia.”

Gabriel waited for Akande to say something that would make this all make sense, put it all in context, reword it so it added up to something Gabriel could process. A violent revolution to tear down the current system was only meant to be the first step, not the new status quo.

“Awfully gullible, aren’t you?” Moira taunted behind him.

Gabriel turned and that frigid crawling dread sank its teeth into his heart.

Angela stood at Moira’s side, holding her hand. The princess’s blonde hair fell in loose tangles around her shoulders and her silk dress was sooty and torn, a sharp contrast to her usual neatness. There was an unearthly glow to her eyes.

If Angela was here… Gabriel couldn’t speak for the fear that glued his tongue to the roof of his mouth. What had happened to Jack?

“You look surprised to see me,” Moira said, sweeping closer with her obedient little charge. “Or rather, surprised to see her.”

“Maybe you can solve a riddle for me, Reaper,” Akande drawled, his tone taking on a cruel edge. “How can a prince be both living and dead at the same time? How could Moira encounter a man you told me you killed?”

Gabriel looked between Akande and Moira, his expression carefully neutral. Theories and ideas cracked like relentless embers in his mind, fusing together until it was all a burning haze. The possibility of Jack being dead attacked him with the ferocity of a swarm of wasps. His instincts were screaming at his to wraith out of there, but he couldn’t just leave Angela in Moira’s clutches.

A girlish giggle broke the stinging silence.

“Oh, I know!” Angela said. “Because he lied! The prince’s not actually dead.”

“Aren’t you clever?” Moira cooed.

The witch had clearly placed some kind of spell on her. Angela sounded like herself, but she certainly wasn’t acting like herself. She looked at Gabriel as though she’d never seen him before.

“Answer me,” Akande said, all playfulness gone, replaced by pure steel. “You presented me the body of a blond-haired man in Prince John’s signature blue armor.”

“You didn’t think it terrifically convenient that the face was smashed in?” Moira sneered.

“Be _quiet_ ,” Akande commanded.

“Yes,” Gabriel said, his voice steady. If he dragged out this conversation, maybe he could figure out some way to get Angela to safety. “That was Jack’s cousin. He was of similar build and coloring. I gave him the armor when the fighting broke out and then killed him.”

“ _Jack_ ,” Akande mocked.

“Ah, the things we do for love,” Moira said with an overdramatic sigh.

With a mean smile, she pinched Angela’s face in one of her bony hands, smushing it. The girl laughed and tried to squirm away, but Gabriel got the message loud and sickeningly clear. They knew he was angling to rescue Angela; they knew he wouldn’t run from them if it meant leaving her behind.

"What did you do to Jack?" Gabriel demanded, heart beating hard.

“You owe me one last debt,” Moira reminded, petting the girl’s blonde hair. "I'll tell you after you repay me."

In her other hand, she conjured a ball of pale yellow light. It squirmed and changed shape, nearly too bright to look at, and formed what appeared to be a mask carved out of bone. As soon as Moira placed it in Angela’s hands, the unnatural glow in her eyes drained. The mask absorbed it greedily and took on an eerie hue.

“Go put it on him, my pet,” the witch said, nudging Angela towards him.

Olivia’s prophecy came back to him, but Gabriel was too unnerved to decipher it. His entire being recoiled from the mask, sensing death itself approaching.

“Angela,” he said, looking into her eyes. “You don’t have to do this. I’m your friend, remember?”

A puzzled expression crossed her face, as though he’d told a joke she didn’t understand. She continued walking towards him with the ghoulish mask.

“You could stop her,” Akande suggested. “You could kill her. You could escape and allow the witch to kill her.”

Gabriel swallowed, but refused to move.

Akande sighed. “Fool. It seems you’re always finding new ways to disappoint me. Just like your father. He was also gullible. Framing him for treason was astoundingly easy. Almost as easy as convincing you the King was responsible for it.”

The air snapped out of Gabriel’s lungs. The floor went out from underneath him in a heart-stopping whoosh. Hot coals were jammed down his throat, horror and betrayal and humiliation. 

_“You fucking son of a—”_ Gabriel advanced on him, teeth bared, fists clenched, his edges slipping into smoke. "I trusted you!"

“Careful,” Akande intoned, glancing towards Angela.

Moira casually summoned a small orb of toxic purple and black in her palm and aimed it at the princess’s back.

“I’ll kill you for this,” Gabriel ground out, every bone in his body on fire with rage. His eyes stung.

“You disgust me,” Akande said, lip curling. “Look at you, broken into sad little pieces because someone you looked up to betrayed you, because you betrayed your lover for no reason, because a little girl is worth more than your own hide. Emotional attachment makes you weak, I tried to teach you that. Sentimentality has no place in this world, especially now.”

Through the pain and fury, Gabriel saw Jack’s beautiful smile, the tears he’d shed when he’d learned Gabriel’s father had been executed, the flush in his cheeks when he gave himself over to Gabriel’s control, trusting him.

He saw Jesse laughing over cards, Angela excitedly recounting some new fact about medicine, Olivia hugging him after a long absence.

He remembered his father’s hand on his head, warm and broad, being read to from the anthology while cozy in bed, the sad smile he always gave the ring hanging from Gabriel’s neck.

And Gabriel knew that if the world they’d created – the world he’d helped create – truly had no room for such things, he’d never be able to live in it.

“There’s another answer to the riddle of how a man can be both alive and dead,” Moira said, smirking. “Would you like to know what it is?”

Angela looked up at Gabriel, guileless and expectant, like she was waiting for him to show her the smoke trick again. He knelt to her level with shaking knees, his insides ice and fire, and let the girl place the mask over his face.

Screaming white resounded inside his head. Knives shredded his tendons, separating the strings in his muscles. His skin frayed into dust, dissipating into the air, twisting him into nothing. Then, everything went dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aw poor Gabriel
> 
> Thanks so much to everyone leaving kudos and comments! It really means the world <3


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY THANKSGIVING, EVERYONE!!! 
> 
> I'm so grateful to my readers for being all-around awesome people, so have an early update and a lovely holiday <3

Already on edge, the whole house was awake in seconds.

“I hear ye! I hear ye!” Torbjörn bellowed, clomping down the stairs with a lit candle.

Sword in hand, Jack felt his way down the darkened corridor and nearly collided with Hanzo, who stood still as a statue at the top of the staircase, an arrow notched and aimed at the front door. Genji crouched behind him, his two handfuls of shuriken catching the meager candlelight.

At the far end of the hallway, Ingrid murmured soothing words to her bushel of children. Though Jesse seethed at Jack commanding him to stay with her as well, he knew he was still far too weak to fight.

Torbjörn jerked open the door with all the irritation of a man hauled out of his own grave, and then froze.

“Hello, old friend,” said a weary voice.

“You stupid oaf, what the hell have you done to yourself?” Torbjörn asked in a ragged whisper.

He hollered for his wife and placed the candle down in such a rush, it nearly toppled over. An unmistakable silhouette became visible. Jack pulled Hanzo’s shoulder and raced past him down the stairs.

“Rein!”

“Jack? Is that you?”

Jack stopped short and swallowed back a spasm of horror as his brother finally stepped into the light. A bandage had been wrapped hastily around his head, covering his eyes. Blood stained the fabric and had dried brown on his cheeks, muddy tear tracks.

At his side, Ana appeared utterly wrecked, like she hadn’t eaten or slept in days. Her limbs trembled with fatigue. Ingrid swooped in and wrapped an arm around her waist, half-carrying her to a cushioned chair.

“My daughter,” Ana said through cracked lips.

“She’s here, she’s safe,” Ingrid assured.

“I’m so happy you’re here,” Jack gasped out, taking Reinhardt’s outstretched hand and leading him to the couch, where he collapsed, his bulk testing its sturdiness.

Ingrid and Torbjörn fussed and flitted around them all, illuminating the room and fetching blankets. Their children were instructed to bring pitchers of water as well as cheese and bread, which Reinhardt and Ana scarfed down, far too hungry for table manners.

Jesse and Genji huddled together on the top step, understanding that they were interlopers in this reunion but unable to stifle their curiosity.

“We thought you were dead,” Hanzo said from the foot of the staircase.

“Almost,” Reinhardt coughed out. “That is Hanzo, correct?”

“Yes,” Jack said. “What happened?”

“Amélie happened,” Ana replied, gaze low. “She slashed both his eyes. I—I failed to stop her in time.”

“You stopped her from ending my life,” Reinhardt insisted, gulping down water straight from the jug.

“They need _rest_ ,” Ingrid declared. “This can wait until tomorrow.”

Ana was guided to the bedroom where Fareeha lay sleeping. The others trickled back to bed as well.

But Jack couldn’t bring himself to leave his brother’s side. They were the only family either of them had now. Jack didn’t know how much Reinhardt knew about the events at the castle, but this wasn’t the moment to bring it up. Ingrid cut away the filthy bindings to reveal the gruesome wounds where his eyes had been. He squeezed Jack’s hand tight as she gingerly cleaned his face and wrapped fresh dressings around his head.

Both Reinhardt and Ana slept through the night and the bulk of the following day, surfacing only to gobble down food or use the toilet or check in a panic that Fareeha was alright. It was only at the next day’s breakfast that Ana, clear-eyed once again, recounted how the Talon forces hidden in their own ranks had sided with the army of bandits that fell on their camp while they slept. It was Olivia – or Sombra as she was called now – who led them out of the chaos to the secluded Lindholm residence. Ana hadn’t known the location and though Reinhardt did, he couldn’t find it without his sight.

“Sombra swore no one else knew we were here,” Ana said, cradling Fareeha close, unspeakably grateful to have her child safe and sound in her arms.

“Even so, staying put is madness,” Hanzo asserted. “We are all Talon’s highest profile targets and we were all brought here by a member of Talon. It’s only a matter of time before we’re ambushed.”

“They’d have an awful tricky time of that,” Torbjörn said. “We’ve set up a number of booby traps in the vicinity.”

“None of which went off when we arrived,” Hanzo scorned.

“Of course not,” Torbjörn shot back smugly. “They’re bewitched to only go off if the trespasser approaches with evil intent.”

“Sombra had no trouble escorting us practically to your door,” Reinhardt commented, picking at the sausages on his plate. “Which says good things for her intentions.”

“The traps are not bewitched,” Ingrid argued, setting down a tray of fresh bread rolls. “It’s alchemy, not witchcraft.”

Ana perked up in interest. “I’ve always wanted to learn alchemy.”

“Stick around then, my lady,” Ingrid said with a wink. “You’re all more than welcome to stay for as long as you need, though we will be putting you to work while you’re here. Royalty or not, the activity will do you good.”

“What use could I be like this?” Reinhardt asked, hands limp in his lap.

The brutal loss of his father, mother and sister had crushed him far more than his injuries. After Jack recounted the fall of the castle, Reinhardt had buried his face in his large hands, heaving with grief but no longer able to physically shed tears. Here he sat, the King of this country, blind on so many levels, unable to protect himself let alone the people he was meant to lead.

“Yer such a bloody pessimist,” Torbjörn scoffed.

“There is much you are still capable of, my love,” Ana said softly. “And I have no intention of letting you mope about if I have to work.”

A ghost of a smile crossed Reinhardt’s lips.

“Oh,” Ana said, fishing around in her satchel with her free hand. “Speaking of Sombra, she wanted me to give you this, Jack.”

She withdrew a book with a worn leather cover and held it out to him. Jack clenched his jaw, crinkling the bandages still plastered across the center of his face.

Jesse raised an eyebrow. “Ain’t that—”

“I don’t want it,” Jack said, cutting him off.

Ana frowned. “I don’t understand. Won’t you at least look at it?”

“I know what it is and I swear to God, if you put it in my hands, I will throw it straight into the fire.”

The force of his tone silenced the table. Ana studied Jack for an inquisitive moment, then returned the book to her bag with a flicker of suspicion.

Jesse’s mouth twisted as he struggled to keep quiet about what was on his mind. He matched Jack glare for glare.

Despite recovering alongside one another, the two of them hadn’t really spoken much. Everything they were feeling was too loud and big to whittle down into words. How do you think let alone talk about betrayal that cut that deep? However, between Jesse’s feverish narrating of Gabriel’s scheme to maneuver Jack to safety and Hanzo’s too-frequent visits to Jesse’s bedside, Jack edged into the realization that not only did Jesse know the exact nature of his and Gabriel’s relationship, it was identical to Jesse’s bond with the new Emperor of Shimada.

Jack wasn’t sure if he was grateful to have an ally or pissed off at what appeared to be yet another breach of trust on Gabriel’s part.

After their many hands cleaned the breakfast dishes, Jesse cornered Jack in their room and Jack found himself leaning towards being pissed.

“Why won’t you take his damn book?” Jesse hissed, painfully aware that he didn’t pose much of a threat with his missing arm still throwing off his balance.

“Are you seriously asking me why I don’t want a token of affection from the man who slit my father’s throat?”

“Are _you_ seriously tellin’ me you miss that lily-livered worm of a King?”

“Of course not, but let’s not forget that Gabriel also gave my little sister to a witch,” Jack snarled.

“He tried to save you both!”

“He could have told me the truth!”

“He _loves_ you!”

Jack faltered, every throb of his heart like squeezing a knife.

“And so what, Jesse?” He asked, voice cracking. “What do you want me to do with that? Forgive him? Run to him with an armful of roses? Offer my throat to be slit for the good of the nation?”

“Just take the damn book,” Jesse repeated.

Jack huffed angrily.

He knew full well that the anthology could never be a mere token of affection. Passed down from his grandmother and father, it was the only possession that Gabriel treasured as much as the ring hidden beneath Jack’s shirt. That Gabriel was giving it to him felt like final proof that the man he loved was gone. Gabriel had given Jack everything that had made him who he was, tangible and intangible, his armor and his heart and his stories, and then chosen to leave it all behind to become Reaper.

“Keep it if you want,” Jack intoned, wishing his heart would just turn to stone. “But if I see it lying around, I will burn it.”

For weeks, Jack nursed a worry that Jesse would test his resolve on this, but he didn’t. Likely because he was well distracted by the astounding prosthetic the Lindholms developed for him. Torbjörn had crafted a metal arm of exquisite detail and through alchemy Ingrid had bestowed it with life. Though she insisted it was science, Jack couldn’t describe the way Jesse could flex and wiggle his metal fingers as anything but magical.

Unsurprising then that Ana was such a voracious student, practically harassing Ingrid with questions about this or that potion. What _was_ surprising was how she pestered Hanzo in equal measure. While Ana had always been a good shot, she had never been trained to snipe in the midst of combat the way he had. She intended to learn though. She was determined to never let anyone hurt her family again.

Far too familiar with that sentiment, Hanzo agreed to teach her what he could. In spite of his impatience to return to Shimada with Genji (and Jesse, it was implied), the road to the border was simply too dangerous right now. Bandits would disembowel them before they even got close.

Lingering here was fine by Genji, who had been readily absorbed into the Lindholm children’s ranks along with Fareeha. They all adored Reinhardt, climbing him like a tree and sitting in rapt silence for his epic stories. Their bright attention helped him keep afloat of the depression threatening to drag him under.

One day, frantic to escape the modest acreage of the Lindholm property, Jack accompanied Ingrid to the nearest town to assist in purchasing supplies for the household. It was only a few hours’ ride on a horse but the carriage extended it to a full day’s journey. They’d stay overnight in the inn.

A hooded cloak shaded Jack’s eyes and his identity, but he discovered quickly enough that he didn’t need it. Between the scars bisecting his face and the simple wool and linen clothing he wore, Jack found himself basking in unfamiliar and wonderful obscurity.

“Ay, Lady Ingrid!” Cried the butcher’s fat wife. “Your presence is always a pleasure it is, but I must be warning you to mind your peace and keep your wits. There’s rumors of a wraith in the woods these days. Y’know they feed off human souls, they do.”

“Hush, who’d believe something like that?” Ingrid scoffed before placing her order. “It would be far more prudent to worry about Talon bandits. Regardless, I’m well-protected. This is my cousin Jack from the Town of Blooms. Though he’s a librarian by trade, he’s handy enough with a sword.”

“Not handy enough to keep that pretty face from being scratched up, hey?”

Jack had never been treated with anything less than utmost obsequiousness from the few shopkeepers he’d interacted with. Ingrid’s eyes flicked to him nervously, but he just smirked.

“Fighting dragons is dangerous work.”

“Is it, now?” The butcher’s wife guffawed in disbelief as she loaded up her scales. “Well, listen, lovey, you bring me its carcass and I’ll carve it up proper. You won’t need me to be paying you for it, sure, what with all the dragon gold lining your pockets.”

Enamored with his newfound anonymity, Jack returned to the town as often as he could. He grinned whenever a merchant was rude or when someone shoved past him on the street. Taking offense at this, a burly farmer in the tavern followed up an insult with a punch, starting a brawl that Jack handily won. _Thanks to Gabriel’s training,_ his heart reminded, puncturing the high of adrenaline.

Beer, he’d found, quieted his stupid heart and vengeful thoughts for a blissful few hours.

However, he’d also discovered the particular frustration that was money, most notably when it ran out and he was still thirsty. The Lindholms were wealthy enough to pay their guests for their labors around the house, but it was nowhere near what Jack was used to having at his disposal.

While instructing Jack in lugging heavy tools around his workshop, Torbjörn threw out some good advice.

“Lad, if yer going to continue these jaunts to get pissed in town, might be a smart idea to hunt down work of some kind. Just roughen up that highborn accent a bit first. And yer going to need an actual name.”

Jack mulled it over, his heart reaching for ‘Reyes’ and his mind shunting it away in favor of names he’d read in books. He categorized his favorites, the stories that had impacted him the most, and his lips twitched into a smile as he recalled Duke Morris’s journal, how it had blasted his world into pieces and illuminated hungers he hadn’t realized he had.

When the wizened tavernkeeper offered Jack a job and asked for his full name, it rolled off his tongue as easily as though there had never been any other answer:

“Jack Morrison.”


	19. Chapter 19

Sombra was in a bit of a pickle, which was unusual for her. Given how she could literally pull clues, secrets and answers from other people’s brains, she rarely remained lost or confused for long. But this was bigger than gleaning the details of clandestine affairs or cheating at cards. A lot bigger.

Everything had been unrolling well enough until now. With every action and plan Doomfist executed, the distant future glowed just a little brighter. His war would strengthen the nation and, in the end, quality of life would improve for everyone. Though Sombra was a little fuzzy as to how exactly all the anarchy and slaughter would lead there, her gift had never led her astray.

But ever since Gabriel had been trapped in the form of a wraith, the future was looking really not great.

The future was a squirmy, nebulous thing, shifting to reflect new decisions and developments. Instead of seeing a sequence of events that would happen next, she got a cluster of the likeliest possibilities. Beyond a few days, the future blurred, the possibilities too numerous to trace. But because the fates of large groups or families or towns tended to move in the same general direction, Sombra had a persistent low-key impression of their shared destination.

And now, that forecasted warmth was dying.

At first, she thought it was temporary, that she’d wake up one day to find the universe had course-corrected, as it was wont to do. But as the weeks rolled by and the timeline continued to tilt towards a bleak end, it grew harder and harder not to get involved.

The problem was that she had no idea how to un-wraith (de-wraith?) Gabriel without clashing with a nasty witch. Or rather, two witches.

Sombra lounged in one of the vandalized thrones in the great hall, using a metal file to whet the steel tips of her nails, the picture of bored disinterest except for the glances she couldn’t help sneaking at Angela.

The bright young princess had been transformed into voluptuous adult woman about Sombra’s age. Eager for a powerful ally, Moira apparently hadn’t had the patience to wait for her to grow at a normal rate.

“How many times must I tell you? You’re meant to burn, not heal,” Moira snapped.

Moira had requested a few prisoners to use as guinea pigs with which to teach her apprentice and Doomfist had gladly provided. Three filthy men were hogtied and wriggling on the stone floor, letting out the occasional scream as a spell scorched skin or blasted off a digit.

Angela pouted beneath her pointed hat. “It’s not my fault! I’m doing exactly what you said.”

Moira scowled but Sombra noted with interest that Angela – or Mercy, as Moira had christened her – was right. As far as the former princess knew, she was following the instructions word for word. Her mind had an eerie blankness to it these days, a once vibrant busy room emptied and painted white so that Moira could fill it with whatever designs she chose.

But pure girls’ hearts were the stuff of legends for a reason. There was power in undiluted goodness, and it was evidently harder to squash than it seemed. Even with her personality and much of her memory buried under sand, Angela’s compulsion to heal shone through.

It was fascinating and worth logging away, but not what Sombra was looking for. She had eavesdropped enough to know every detail of the ritual that damned Gabriel to his new form, could envision the skull mask as accurately as Moira could, but had uncovered few clues as to how to reverse what had been done.

Remembering the riddle that the universe had put in her mouth to give to Gabriel, Sombra had a hunch that prying the mask off him was her best bet at altering the trajectory of all their fates. Even though she had no idea what removing it would do to him. Or whether it was even possible to remove it.

Regardless, she first had to figure out where Gabriel had gone. The woods were big but Moira must have been able to track him somehow. For weeks, Sombra lingered near the witch whenever she got a chance and _finally_ , she heard what she was looking for.

Irritated at Mercy’s unintentional predilection for light magic, Moira wondered if there’d been a flaw in how she crafted Gabriel’s mask, and Sombra got a clear picture of the wraith’s hunting grounds. A stretch of dark forest between the main road and the river.

Bingo.

Sombra was going to need some help with the next step, though. She couldn’t overpower a wraith on her own. To be cautious, she allowed several days to pass before permitting herself to visit the Lindholms and their merry band of refugees.

As she crossed the boundary to their land, she felt the shiver of alchemy over her senses, the wards prodding at her intentions. Weaving through the trees, she didn’t bother to silence her footsteps. It wouldn’t do to enter like a thief if she meant to come as a friend.

Halfway to the main house, the _thunks_ of axes splitting wood reached her. The breezy swish of distant thoughts grew in volume as she approached a small clearing, where she found Jack and Jesse lining up logs on stumps and chopping them into a stockpile for winter. Before showing herself, she observed them for a moment.

Jesse was preoccupied with thoughts of his sister, fighting back the painful memory of what an axe in her hand had done to him, but he was also guiltily proud of the elegance and power of his prosthetic. A custom Lindholm piece. Was probably worth more than every piece of gold Talon had ever paid him.

The changes in the prince were no less drastic. He was rougher around the edges, both physically and mentally. In addition to the scars, his appearance had shifted from a well-toned physique cultivated in comfort to a body kept lithe and strong out of necessity. A tool for use instead of show. Unsurprisingly, he seesawed between thinking of Gabriel and adamantly not thinking of Gabriel

“Olivia!” Jesse yelled when he saw her.

He dropped his axe and hauled her into a hug, smelling of sweat and tree sap. She was pleasantly startled to feel a zing of alchemy from his metal arm. That would be damn useful.

“What the hell do you want?” Jack growled, settling the axe on his broad shoulder.

“Aren’t you going to thank me for leading you and Rein and everyone to safety?” She teased.

“Not in a particularly thankful mood these days. You’re on Lindholm property, so your intentions are good, but I still don’t trust you. Why did you help us?”

“Because Gabriel wanted me to.”

Sombra sensed half a second of pure fury before the axe thudded into the earth by her feet.

“Hey!” Jesse yelped.

“Try again,” Jack said.

His mind was a deadly blank, something broken and hurting and unpredictable. Sombra felt out where different answers would lead this conversation before choosing her next words.

“Well, it was _partially_ because Gabriel wanted me to,” she said slowly. “And what he wanted also happened to line up with what will bring us to a better future. I’m a seer.”

“You’re a what now?” Jesse asked.

“Clairvoyant. Soothsayer. Whatever you want to call it.” She narrowed her eyes at Jack. “No, it’s not bullshit or a trick. Think of something and I’ll repeat it back to you… _Awed by her splendor / Stars near the lovely / moon cover their own / bright faces_. And holy shit, you really wish Gabriel was here to finish that poem.”

Jack and Jesse gaped at her, and then blinked in surprise when she burst out: “Wait, you didn’t take the anthology?”

“This again,” Jack groused. “Why do you people think I want—”

“A token of affection from the man who killed your father?” Sombra scowled. “Because I slipped a letter into it explaining that Gabriel was tricked.”

“Great, so was I,” Jack deadpanned. “We can start a guild.”

“Akande lied. He was the one who framed Gabriel’s father for treason, not the King.”

After a stunned pause, Jesse let out a stream of vitriol: “That son of a bitch! What… he figured if the revolution didn’t go exactly as planned, he could string up Gabe seein’ as he was the one who did the execution?”

“Basically.”

Jack let out a mirthless laugh. “So, he killed my father for no reason. How kind of you not to tell us this beforehand.”

“Okay, look,” Sombra snapped. “I only learned this a few weeks ago. Akande _knows_ I can read thoughts and he’s damn good at concealing them.”

“And yet I’m supposed to believe that you know how to make the future better?” Jack sneered. “Have you seen what Talon bandits are doing to the countryside? People are living in more fear than they ever did under my father’s reign.”

“No one said the path to peace was an easy one. You asked why I helped you and that’s my answer. It’s the same reason I helped Talon and it’s the same reason why now, we need to help Gabriel.”

“Help him do what?” Jesse asked with a frown of concern.

“Well, if you’d read my note, you’d know that Moira transformed him into a wraith and banished him to the forest.” Sombra huffed. “No, Jesse, not a ghost. A wraith. A creature trapped between life and death who needs to feed off human souls to sustain itself. No, Jack, just because he could turn into wraith smoke before didn’t mean he _was_ a wraith before.”

“Dear God, it’s annoying when you do that,” Jack said.

“We have to remove the mask that’s keeping him that way,” Sombra continued, ignoring him. “I’m betting the best way to do that is with Jesse’s new hand there. Pure steel engraved with alchemy is a tough thing for magic to resist. I was going to use my nails, but you’ve got a bit more metal to work with.”

“What’re we waitin’ for then?” Jesse said, collecting his axe. “Let’s grab some provisions and get a move on.”

“What the hell do you mean you’re not coming?!” Sombra barked at Jack.

“Seriously?” Jesse scowled.

Thoroughly done with this conversation, Jack began walking along the path to the main house. At his back, Jesse began a scathing reproach but Sombra quieted him. Jack hoped she’d gotten a good long look at exactly how irreparable his broken heart was. He couldn’t even think of Gabriel without his chest tightening, the love and the pain stealing his breath. Seeing Gabriel again might actually kill him.

Jack didn’t trust himself not to fall right back into his arms, even stained with his family’s blood as they were. God knows he could forgive Gabriel for killing the King. Jack felt no shortage of relief to be out from under his bigoted father’s rule. Hell, Jack didn’t even really care that Gabriel had concealed the planned revolution from him.

But handing over his innocent, kind, smart little sister to a witch who immediately warped her into a tool for evil…That Jack could never forgive.

Desperate to empty his mind, he rode to town and arrived at the tavern early. He hitched the horse in the stable attached to the inn and dumped his things in the small room set aside for him. He’d developed a routine, spending five days working and drinking before returning to the Lindholms for the weekend.

Both the tavern and the wizened tavernkeeper’s daughter were named Sojourn. She ran the joint with the harsh work ethic and shrewd eye of a sea captain. From the minute Jack showed up to the minute he stumbled upstairs to his room, she kept him busy. Noting his strength, she had him hauling kegs of beer and enormous sacks of flour in addition to serving drinks at the bar. Tossing drunken troublemakers out also became his purview.

Jack thoroughly understood now why Gabriel had jeered at him for playing peasant. The labor of day-to-day living was hard, exhausting work. Little things kept reminding him that he’d been raised with very different standards. The stink of people drove him nuts in the beginning and he found himself yearning for the castle’s baths. But there was a simplicity in taking orders and working himself to the bone. The fatigue and the free beer kept his sleep dreamless, though the occasional night terror still slapped him awake.

When this happened, he’d light a candle and watch the shadows it made in his tiny rented room, wishing he had something to read. Prince John had practically lived in the royal library, but Jack Morrison didn’t have a book to his name. It had surprised him how difficult it was for common people to gain access to reading material, if they could read at all.

Sitting there with the meager flame, memories of a nightmare staining the edges of his thoughts, he’d allow himself to squeeze the ring on his necklace for comfort. It was only because it had been charmed to protect him, he convinced himself, remembering the blast of gold light that deflected Moira’s attack. It would be stupid to throw away such powerful protection.

Over and over, his fingertips traced the delicate pattern engraved in the brass. Bleary from interrupted rest, his eyes followed the dance of light and shadow across the surfaces and corners of the room.

It never occurred to him that the shadows might be watching him back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all you lovely lovely people leaving comments and kudos <3 
> 
> To the regular readers who keep coming back: you make my days so bright, you have no idea xoxoxo


	20. Chapter 20

The stretch of woods between the main road and the river was shadowy and damp even at high noon. The trees grew thick and close, branches whispering together overhead. This segment of the river was broad and frothy, all dark water and white foam that would sweep a body away in an instant.

At first, Sombra had been irritated that Hanzo insisted on coming with them, dreading the erotic thoughts he would summon in Jesse and vice versa. Pornographic picture shows were not conducive to wraith tracking. However, she sensed their quest would be easier with Hanzo along and fortunately the two men remained mostly focused on the task at hand.

Not that they were making much progress. Two days of scouring the shadows and wandering around as open bait had only attracted a pack of wolves that Hanzo’s arrows readily chased away.

“Yes, Jesse, I’m sure wraiths have to sleep,” Sombra reiterated for the umpteenth time, sitting irritably on a fallen log.

They were close enough to the main road to hear a carriage rumble past but were prevented from seeing it by the dense greenery. The sun was sinking in the sky, deepening the dark corners around them. Sombra gnawed on some dried fruit. Their supplies would be gone by midday tomorrow. They’d have to restock before continuing their search – more delays.

Hanzo frowned down at his tattooed arm. He wore it uncovered in the cool forest air, wary of threats that would require arrows or his dragons’ assistance to vanquish.

“They’re restless?” Sombra asked.

Hanzo notched an arrow into his bow aimed it at the ground, releasing it as soon as the intricate ink glowed blue. The two spirit dragons leapt out of his skin, following the path drawn by the alchemy inlaid in the arrow. As Hanzo returned it to his quiver, one of them bounded to Jesse and slinked between his legs like a cat.

“Smaller than they were,” Jesse commented, reaching down to stroke its back.

“I do not need to summon them in all their strength for this,” Hanzo said, slightly embarrassed at the dragon’s affectionate antics.

The other dragon, the one that had been his father’s, ignored them all as it latched onto an invisible trail. Sombra rolled her eyes at Hanzo’s continued irritation at his ancestral spirit animals being reduced to tracking dogs. But it wasn’t like you could set a hound to find a scentless wraith.

The playful dragon bounded after his brother, the pair giving off the faintest light in the darkening woods. The three humans anxiously traipsed after. This was their first real lead.

“Ain’t we just followin’ the road right back to town?” Jesse asked after they’d trekked for an hour.

“Seems so,” Hanzo said.

Sensing his confidence in the dragon, Sombra withheld her doubts and questions, though she was baffled. Wraiths absorbed human souls but they were rarely seen close to large settlements, preferring to prey upon lone travelers and then vanish back into the safety of the woods. Nevertheless, the dragons led them past cottages on the outskirts and further into the city, quiet and empty at this late hour.

The only hub of activity and noise was the tavern Sojourn. The windows of both the bar and the inn were lit and welcoming.

“Jack works there?” Sombra asked, turning to look at Jesse. “Yeah, that’s real romantic, but that doesn’t make sense. Wraiths don’t retain human memories. I’ve encountered them before; they’re mindless husks.”

But that was firmly where the dragons’ noses pointed.

“Might I suggest, considerin’ Jack’s rather forceful refusal to join this little adventure, that we not get him involved?” Jesse said.

“What would you have us do?” Hanzo asked, reaching down to allow the pair of weary spirits to disperse. His tattoo gleamed like starlight for a few seconds.

Sombra considered. “We wait.”

The three of them slumped against the front wall of the shuttered crockery store across the street and did just that. Hours passed and drunken patrons either toppled out into the street or plopped into beds in the inn, the windows going dark one by one. They took turns catching a bit of sleep, and just before dawn began to brighten the sky, Sombra shook the two men awake.

An opaque black cloud had separated from the shadows of the inn. It moved with a sentience that was terrifying in such an alien creature, particularly when it noticed them. They scrambled to their feet.

“Gabe?” Jesse called hopefully, even as Hanzo notched an arrow and Sombra rolled up her sleeves.

“I see no mask,” Hanzo said.

They stood their ground as it unfurled towards them with an air of menace. As it neared, the smoke began to shift, the cloud collecting to form the vague shape of a cloaked figure. Its thoughts also coalesced into something Sombra could understand, though it chilled her to hear nothing but a litany of _hungry…so hungry_.

“Jesse, get ready,” she whispered.

It loomed over them, the tips of its indistinct hands abruptly solidifying into enormous black claws. The mask appeared where its face ought to be, white as bone and emanating the same otherworldly essence the dragons had. The three of them stood frozen, afraid it would flee or attack before they had a chance to react. It reached for Sombra, flowing towards her in a gust of cold air. Claws like icicles latched onto her shoulders and her future vanished before her eyes.

It reappeared as Jesse’s metal hand shot out and latched onto the mask.

The wraith let out an unearthly screech and slashed at him with its claws, sparking off the steel. Gritting his teeth and gripping hard, Jesse tugged. Sombra stumbled back, but Hanzo slotted himself behind Jesse and latched onto his wrist with his tattooed arm. The dragons glowed within the ink, the spirits galvanizing the alchemy etched into Jesse’s prosthetic. Together, they pulled. The wraith screamed and writhed.

With a crackle with magic, the mask uncoupled from the smoke.

Hanzo and Jesse staggered backwards and hit the wall hard. Sombra stared at the black mist spreading like a puddle, heart in her throat, hoping they hadn’t just killed her friend.

Slowly, the smoke drew itself together, growing denser, until to Sombra’s immense relief, the familiar presence of Gabriel’s mind emerged, shortly followed by his physical body. He dropped to his knees, breathing almost as hard as Hanzo and Jesse.

Gabriel squinted in the dim light, his eyes darting around in confusion before landing on the mask. Jesse was clutching it as though it might fly away.

“You got it off?” He croaked out, staggering to his feet.

Sombra flung her arms around him and squeezed him tightly. After a second of surprise, he hugged her back.

“Thank you,” he said, meeting Jesse’s gaze over her shoulder. “Where am I? Where’s Jack? Is he…”

Though the last solid memory Gabriel had was of kneeling before Angela, sketchy images flickered through his mind: the glow of a soul fading as he swallowed it, the open woods, a cramped room, the river he couldn’t cross, Jack hunched on a bed half in shadow.

“Watch Town,” Hanzo supplied, while Jesse simultaneously said: “Jack’s fine.”

“You want to see him,” Sombra inferred, relinquishing him. “He’s in the Sojourn tavern.”

Though Gabriel’s shoulders sagged in relief, he frowned at the inn, a million questions running through his mind. Sombra began answering them before he even opened his mouth.

“Yes, he’s drinking a lot but he also works there. Changed his name to Jack Morrison and with the scars on his face, no one recognizes him. He’s in this town because it’s the nearest to the Lindholms, who took him in after… Yeah, Brigitte’s parents. Wait, you don’t want to see him?”

“I don’t deserve to,” Gabriel said. “I’m glad he has his own life.”

“He’s miserable,” Jesse said bluntly.

“I would be too if the only person I trusted betrayed me,” Gabriel said darkly. “What the hell happened to your arm?”

Jesse’s mouth twisted. “Ashe…Ashe took an axe to me when I wouldn’t let her kill baby Fareeha.”

“I’m sorry,” Gabriel said after he got over his shock. It didn’t escape his attention how furious Hanzo was over this. “You did good though. You did the right thing.”

_Unlike me._

“You saved Jack,” Sombra protested. “He still—”

“Save it. I don’t want to hear it.”

The gold-rimmed horizon tilted as dizziness nearly took Gabriel off his feet. He cradled his head in his hands and found he was still wearing the clawed gauntlets. He was _starving_.

“What’s happenin’?” Jesse asked, worried.

“He’s…He’s still technically a wraith,” Sombra realized. “He still needs to consume human souls to survive.”

Gabriel let out a harsh bark of laughter. “So, now I’m an actual monster. Fitting. Do me a favor. Go tell Jack exactly how to kill wraiths.”

“Shut up, you melodramatic asshole,” Jesse snapped. “There’s gotta be some way to fix this. Right, Olivia?”

Sombra stared into the ether, the distant future seesawing between rosy and bleak, wishing the universe would give her clearer hints as to which choice led where. It was all a jumble at the moment, as chaotic as Gabriel’s thoughts. The only clue she could latch onto was the last riddle she’d given him: Masks can hide other masks.

She reached out and took the bone-white mask from Jesse’s hand, studying it.

“This didn’t just turn you into a wraith… This also transformed Angela into an adult witch. Maybe if we can trick her into taking it off you, the magic will reverse.”

“An adult witch?” Gabriel echoed. “Wait. Are you saying if we change me back, we could save Angela?”

“I think so,” Sombra said. “That seems to be the best course of action, though the future is still annoyingly vague on this.”

Gabriel didn’t dare hope too hard. If he could reunite Angela with Jack, safe and sound, maybe some of this crushing guilt would lift. Maybe Jack would… Gabriel shook his head. He wouldn’t wish for forgiveness.

“Are the witches still at the castle?” Hanzo asked, emerging from his silent observation.

“No,” Gabriel said, surprised that he knew the answer. “There’s a cottage hidden in the woods. I can’t remember more than a few details, but I was there recently. Moira could summon me to it.”

“Do you know where it is?” Jesse asked.

Gabriel thought hard for a minute. “Just that it’s on the river. If I put that thing back on, I’ll probably lead you there,” he said, eyeballing the mask.

“Probably?” Hanzo repeated doubtfully. “What will stop you from simply devouring us?”

“What about these fellas?” Jesse asked, running a hand down Hanzo’s tattoo. “Couldn’t they keep him in line?”

“They are not trained hounds,” Hanzo said irritably.

“It would work though, wouldn’t it?” Sombra interjected.

Hanzo reluctantly huffed out an affirmative. You’d think it was him who needed to allow his mind to be engulfed by a mindless murdering monster. Gabriel took a deep breath and instinctively glanced at the tavern. If it meant saving Angela and easing Jack’s heartache, it was worth any risk.

“Don’t let me hurt anyone who doesn’t deserve it,” he said wanly.

Sombra nodded and placed the skull mask into his outstretched hand. A chill ran down his spine but he lifted it to his face all the same. His last thought before black mist swallowed his consciousness was: _Morrison, huh?_


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We now return to our normal posting schedule :D

For all Hanzo’s deep annoyance that his spirit dragons had been drafted into the role of shepherding dogs, they were pretty good at the job. Sombra wondered if Jesse knew how much influence he had over the young emperor, that Hanzo would never have agreed to help Gabriel or even Angela without his urging. However, this wasn’t the time or the place to poke around Jesse’s mind.

The dragons reemerged from Hanzo’s soul, this time as tall as stallions and triple the length, more than large enough to interpose their gleaming blue bodies between the hungry wraith and the three weary travelers chasing it through the woods, back the way they’d marched the day before.

Their only respite was when they chanced upon a severely wounded man groaning in the thick underbrush. His missing purse and the gory stab wounds in his torso indicated he was likely a victim of some Talon bandit.

Without bothering to discuss it with the others, Hanzo recalled the dragons keeping Gabriel contained. Jesse made a sound of protest as the swirl of black mist descended upon its prey. But the man was near death and they were all pragmatic enough to see the value in allowing Gabriel to feed. It was quick, at least. Nevertheless, Jesse chewed his lip, frustrated with Hanzo’s imperious decision making.

Their pace slowed after that. In this state, Gabriel was incapable of understanding why three humans and two spirit dragons were following him without attacking, but now that it was fully sated, the wraith didn’t seem to care. It stopped trying to attack or escape them. When they reached the river, it let out a low hiss at the running water it couldn’t cross and headed south along the bank. They took the opportunity to refill their skeins and gulp down some much-needed refreshment.

“How’re we gonna pull this off?” Jesse asked, half-surprised Sombra hadn’t answered the question before he could voice it.

It took her a minute to find her way out of her own dense forest of thoughts. She’d been scouring the near future nonstop for the best possible paths and had cobbled together a tentative plan. So much could go wrong though.

“The witch wiped Angela’s memories,” Sombra said at length. “We can use that to our advantage. She’s seen me at the castle and has heard your names mentioned, but she won’t know either of your faces.”

“What’s to stop her attacking us on sight then?” Hanzo asked shrewdly.

“That gentle personality of hers hasn’t been completely suppressed,” Sombra said as they trekked alongside the rushing water. “I’m banking on that.”

The three of them hashed out a plan that Hanzo hated with every fiber of his being, but Sombra insisted was their best chance. Jesse’s non-metal hand cupped the side of Hanzo’s scowling face and he leaned in to catch his mouth in a sweet kiss. He took hold of the nape of Jesse’s neck to keep him there.

The cloud of smoke slithered ahead of them, flanked by the two dragons. Sombra could sense Hanzo’s exhaustion at keeping them corporeal for so long, and was again thankful that Jesse had plucked up the courage to shove the Shimada royal into a supply closet all those months ago. This endeavor would have been exponentially more difficult without his help.

A gargantuan tree dominated the bend in the river, its roots as thick as the pillars in the castle’s great hall. Moira’s cottage appeared to have been carved straight into the trunk, its dark door and shuttered windows set into the mossy bark. Even from a distance, it did not look welcoming.

A girlish litany suddenly threaded through the steady rumble of Jesse’s thoughts and the grumpy melody of Hanzo’s.

_White snakeroot to poison milk. Milk thistle to draw out poison._

“Stop!” Sombra ordered, turning towards the trees.

_No, not milk thistle. Well… Even if Mother doesn’t think we need it, we might as well have it on hand._

As Jesse and Hanzo followed Sombra’s careful venture into the foliage, the dragons pounced on either side of the wraith, trapping it against the river. The smoke roiled in irritation.

In a glade thick with weeds and brambles, Mercy hummed to herself while she collected all manner of herbs in a large wicker basket. In the shade of her pointed hat, her eyes retained that uncanny glow.

The three of them retraced their steps to the riverbank, where the gushing rapids drowned out their voices. Sombra didn’t sense another mind for miles, but she didn’t trust Moira not to pop out of thin air somehow. They had to act now.

Jesse plonked his beloved hat onto Hanzo’s head, rolled up his shirtsleeves and prepared to run.

“On the count of three,” Sombra said, digging the steel tips of her nails into the flesh of Jesse’s forearm.

He hissed as drops of blood welled up but nodded in assent.

“One. Two. Three!”

She slashed a claw mark into his arm and sprang away from him in one swift movement, joining Hanzo where he stood knee-deep in the icy water. Jesse ran. Hanzo let him reach the edge of the trees before instructing the dragons to release the wraith, which had flared up in agitation.

It immediately darted after the scent of fresh blood, snaking over the rocks and up to weave through the shrubbery.

“Help!” Jesse hollered as he crashed through the underbrush and fell into the glade.

Mercy straightened up in alarm, a sinister glow gathering in her right hand.

“Who are you?” She demanded.

Jesse didn’t have time to answer. He scrambled to his feet as the wraith loomed behind him and ran a few more steps before tripping in the grass near the witch’s feet. The black cloud gathered into itself to take the form of a cloaked figure and those terrifying claws emerged. Along with the mask.

“I’ve never seen the wraith feed before.” Mercy tilted her head, curious.

“Please help me!” Jesse gasped out, clutching at her boot with his gouged arm and gazing up at her with pleading eyes. “Please! I don’t want to die.”

She looked down at him, uncertainty flickering over her face. Hidden in the trees, Hanzo notched an arrow, his heart beating hard as the wraith drew nearer to Jesse. Concealed lower to the ground, Sombra heard him mentally counsel himself to be patient until the right moment.

“Why should I help you?” Mercy asked, guileless. It wasn’t a rhetorical question. She was genuinely curious.

“You’re a witch,” Jesse said in a rush, edging away from the threat. “Witches make deals. Save my life and I’ll trade you somethin’.”

“The only way to stop the wraith would be to take its mask off. Mother told me never to do that.” A devious glint came into her eyes. “What would you trade me though?”

“You’re curious how the human body works, right? I can introduce you to a woman of science, an alchemist, who can teach you all about it.”

“Science?” She echoed, perking up in interest.

“C’mon,” Jesse begged as the wraith pressed in closer. “The alchemist will teach you how to make potions for all sorts of things.”

“Potions, huh?”

She dragged her hand through the smoke, smiling at the way it curled around her fingers. Jesse shrank, colder than he’d ever been in his life. Hanzo drew back his bowstring.

Mercy giggled. “Okay.”

Unlike before, the wraith didn’t fight back as Mercy took hold of the white mask, cupping it as though it was an apple to be plucked from a branch. It accrued an ethereal glow. Mere centimeters above Jesse’s heaving chest, Gabriel’s claws retreated.

As she began to pull, the glow grew into a light that enveloped both the witch and the wraith. The other three squinted as it became too bright to see. It was working. Sombra could hear the low current of Gabriel’s thoughts.

Moira’s voice suddenly screamed through the forest: “NO!”

A beam of toxic magic shot out of the trees, striking into the heart of the enchantment. Angela and the wraith both cried out, the light vanishing as they were flung in opposite directions.

The mask shattered to pieces, white shards raining down into the green grass.

“Gabe!” Jesse yelled, crawling to his side.

The black smoke writhed and morphed into Gabriel’s body, then dissolved, then reformed. He clutched at his head. Sombra could see that his mind remained his own, but he was consumed by pain.

Sprawled next to her basket, Angela’s body was still that of an adult woman.

With fury and vengeance, Moira swooped into the glade in a billowing black and purple cloak.

Sombra leaned into the bark of the broad oak tree concealing her, overwhelmed. The future kept fracturing, possibilities multiplying and blurring, too many, far too many. What was causing so much chaos? What was unbalanced yet powerful enough that the direction of the universe itself was dangling on it? She felt like she couldn’t take a step forward until she knew.

“You stupid child!” Moira spat, hauling Mercy up by her throat. “What have you done?”

“I don’t know,” the younger witch coughed out.

“Ugh!” Moira tossed her aside in disgust and whirled to face Jesse, who crouched protectively in front of Gabriel.

As she bore down on the two of them, Hanzo nimbly dropped from his hiding place in the branches and inserted himself in her path, arm shimmering.

The arrow he released from his bow passed harmlessly through her as she melted into smoke and reappeared several feet away, but the dragons burst forth with spine-chilling snarls.

Moira simply laughed and gathered an orb of energy into each hand, her mismatched eyes gleaming dark.

“Come on then,” she taunted. “Let’s see if you die as easily as your father. I could use more pets.”

Hanzo glared at her with pure murder in his eyes from under the brim of Jesse's hat. 

The spirit dragons and the witch clashed in blinding flashes of light and magic that cast all manner of colors onto the trees. The grass scorched beneath them. Leaves and branches were torn from their places with loud cracks and groans.

Disoriented, Mercy edged away from the fighting on her hands and knees.

It was her, Sombra realized with a start. Angela’s mind was in flux between her true self and the sorceress Moira had transformed her into. When Mercy’s blank apathy gained an edge, the universe lurched towards a dark end. When Princess Angela regained a scrap of herself, it tilted towards light.

“Angela!” Sombra cried.

The blonde glanced over in confusion.

“Angela, look! Look at Gabriel! He’s your friend, remember? You can help him!”

“Gabriel?”

_Show me the smoke trick again! It would be my honor, princess. You understand, Angela? Here are the keys to his rooms. Go to him and run. Get as far away from here as you can._

One of the dragons screamed as Moira’s needle-sharp nails dug into its scales. She wraithed away before the other dragon’s jaws could close over her arm. The instant she reappeared, an arrow buried itself in her shoulder. She howled in fury and shot a deadly beam of purple magic in Jesse’s direction. He managed to raise his metal arm at the last second, but the deflected attack caught Hanzo in the thigh. The emperor dropped to one knee with a grunt.

“You _know_ Gabriel, Angela, you know you do!” Sombra yelled. “You have to help us save him! He’s in love with your brother, Jack!”

“Jack…My brother?”

_It’s the things you choose to do that define the type of person you are. Do you want to be the type of person who’s only nice when she has to be? Careful Father doesn’t catch you in the library. I love you, little sis._

Angela’s eyes widened, tears filling them as a deluge of childhood memories crashed through her. The future flickered like a candle, the blaze burned hotter and brighter.

A wind whipped up, something warm and unnatural.

 _I can…I can…Where should I go?_ reverberated through Angela’s thoughts, the words shining into Sombra’s.

“The Lindholms!” She screamed.

The wind curled and snapped.

Sombra would have sworn she saw glowing gold wings open behind Angela. A great flap of them and ringing clogged her ears. Her vision whited out. Sombra was weightless, nothing, an air bubble floating in the sea, up, up, up. She broke the surface with an enormous gasp.

The earth suddenly slid in to catch her. A rock poked into her lower back. Her eyes slowly refocused and registered the blue sky where there had been a dark canopy just a moment before.

Sitting on his wide porch, Torbjörn stared at the pile of people and two dragons that had appeared out of nowhere in front of him.

“What the ever-loving fuck?”

Ingrid stepped out of the house and after a moment of consideration, put her hands on her hips.

“Guess we’ll need to set out more plates for dinner.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get ready for some fun reunions next chapter ;)
> 
> In the meantime, **HAPPY HOLIDAYS EVERYONE!!!**
> 
> I hope you all receive as much joy as you've given me this past year <3


	22. Chapter 22

Ingrid crisscrossed her laboratory to paw through various shelves. Bottles in all shapes, sizes and colors clinked beneath her searching fingers. Ana watched on with hard eyes, purportedly to deepen her knowledge of alchemy but more likely to keep an eye on Gabriel, who sat bonelessly in an armchair.

The only reason she hadn’t sunk an arrow into his chest was likely because she couldn’t be sure it wouldn’t pass right through him. And because Angela had stuck as close to him as though he were Jack ever since their group’s undignified appearance in the Lindholms’ front garden. Her healing magic had stabilized him, restored his control over his physical form and chased away as much of his pain as possible.

But he was still a wraith and she was still in an adult body.

And with the mask broken, they would apparently stay that way.

“I’ll keep researching though,” Ingrid assured, stacking up several thick reference books.

“I’ll help, of course,” Angela offered, eagerly eying the texts.

Jesse had been clever to trade her lessons with Ingrid in exchange for his life. It was a deal he’d been readily able to uphold. Had he promised something he couldn’t give her, consequences would have sprung up regardless of whether Angela held him to the exchange. Magic demanded debts be paid.

Ana couldn’t help a small smile at Angela’s itch to read. The princess had always been mature for her age, so her personality in an older body wasn’t nearly as jarring as it could have been. Plus, her prodigious medical studies had given her a fair warning about what to expect from it, and the magic she’d been imbued with was certainly a boon now that her true self was back in charge of her mind.

Still, Ana worried. Angela’s judgement, sound as it was, was still that of a child.

Despite the heartfelt reunion with her eldest brother Reinhardt, Angela still chose to cling to Gabriel, fending off both Reinhardt’s fury and Ana’s indictments of his crimes. Even Gabriel’s reminders that he murdered her father weren’t effective. Gabriel had tried to save her and Jack the night of the rebellion, and had successfully helped save her from Moira’s clutches, and apparently that was enough to sway the girl’s affection.

Ana would need to teach her that some things couldn’t and shouldn’t be forgiven.

“We’ll get started after dinner,” Ingrid said, ushering them all to the exit. “Let’s get you bathed and changed. Might be we can find something of Brigitte’s you’ll fit into. Jack will be returning from town soon and it might be less of a shock if you weren’t in that skimpy witch wear. At least King Reinhardt can’t see you. Not sure the poor man could take it. There’s truly nothing your magic can do for his sight?”

“I don’t think so,” Angela responded sadly. “The wounds are too old. Gabriel, where are you going?”

He had beelined for the house’s entrance as soon as they entered the grand living room.

“Leaving,” he said, tugging his dark hood over his head.

“But Jack—”

“Exactly.”

“Coward,” Ana said coldly.

Gabriel’s shoulders hunched. “Seeing me is the last thing he wants right now.”

“You owe it to him though. You killed his father and how many other of his family members. You helped Ogundimu destroy everything he knew. You betrayed his trust.”

“I did worse than that.” Gabriel turned to look her dead in the eye. “I broke his heart.”

Ingrid started in surprise, but Angela lowered her gaze in sympathy. If Ana was shocked by this revelation, she recovered quickly.

“And you won’t face him? He deserves the privilege of throwing you out of this house. Hell, he deserves the privilege of slitting your throat.”

“He’ll have it,” Gabriel guaranteed. “Right after I tie up some loose ends. I have a few people I intend to usher into the afterlife ahead of me.”

The late afternoon sun spilled syrupy and gold through the trees, all tall and old.

Gabriel avoided the main drive to the house, which Jack would likely canter up on his horse, and instead opted for a dirt path through the surrounding forest. Birds held long dialogues with each other in the branches. A chill began to creep in on the breeze that shuffled the leaves.

The trail descended as it looped around a hill. When he rounded a bend and came face-to-face with Jack, Gabriel staggered.

They stared at each other in shocked silence.

For a good few seconds, Gabriel thought he was hallucinating.

But hallucinations didn’t smell.

Sweating and flushed, Jack had clearly just dismounted after a hard ride, the scent of saddle leather blending with the musk of his perspiration. The familiarity of it punched Gabriel in the gut. It was so unmistakably Jack, even with the simple linen and wool clothing, even with the scars bisecting his handsome face.

But there was an undeniable tension in his muscles that hadn’t been there before. Wariness honed by grief.

To Jack, Gabriel appeared almost the exact same as the last time he’d seen him, when Reaper stood on a stone platform and spilled the King’s blood with his dagger. But he seemed hollow. Pain had tightened the skin around his eyes. The tips of his fingers were blurring into wraith smoke.

Jack gave Gabriel a hard look and dropped to his knees.

“Don’t,” Gabriel whispered, his heart sinking.

“Why not? Isn’t this what you want? Isn’t this always what you wanted? Me on my knees? Or is that not good enough anymore? You want my head, too?”

Gabriel shook his head and knelt as well. His hands solidified as they touched the dirt.

“I’m sorry,” he said, feeling how useless the words were to express the remorse and love screaming in his chest. “I’m so sorry. I was lied to.”

“Yeah, so I’ve heard. Hurts when someone you trust does that, huh?”

Jack’s spite bubbled up under his skin like lava. And Gabriel knew he’d done that. He’d wounded Jack badly enough to make him cruel. Guilt closed his throat.

“Sombra said you needed to feed off people to stay alive these days,” Jack said. “Well, go ahead. You already broke me in every other way. Finish it.”

“Never.”

Jack lurched to his feet in agitation, the heat of tears prickling the back of his eyeballs, his chest heaving as though he couldn’t pull in enough air.

Gabriel caught a glimpse of a circular object pressed against the dampened front of Jack’s shirt and his eyes flew wide.

“You…kept it?”

“Don’t get sentimental,” Jack said, though his hand rose on impulse to protectively clutch the ring. “I wasn’t about to throw away an object charmed to defend me.”

Gabriel stared up at him in utter confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“Right, you don’t know a single thing about magic,” Jack sneered. “Is that your excuse for giving the witch a lock of my sister’s hair? You just didn’t know what it would be used for?”

“Nothing I can say excuses what I did.”

“At least we agree on that. Are you here because you were hoping we’d somehow make up?”

“No.”

“Good.” Jack stormed past him. “Stay away from me.”

He’d only walked a few feet before Gabriel said, “Angela’s at the Lindholms.”

Jack stumbled. “ _What?_ ”

“She looks a little different. Try not to be too shocked.”

Jack whirled around, but the path was empty. Bars of honeyed light and dark shadow fell across the earth where Gabriel had been a moment before.

Heart in his throat, Jack raced towards the house.

Just as it came into view, he ran into Sombra. She darted to block his path and he could practically feel her pulling his encounter with Gabriel out of his head.

“Do you mind?” He snapped.

“We need him,” she shot back.

“Well, if you want him so badly, why don’t you—”

“I _will_.”

With a huff, they charged off in opposite directions.

Jack burst through the front door to find Reinhardt sitting on the couch, a real smile on his face for the first time in weeks. Holding his hand was a blonde woman in a simple dress who couldn’t have been more than a year or two younger than Jack. But she beamed at him with tears in her eyes and he knew through and through that this was his sister.

Jack hauled her into a hug, laughing in joy, and Reinhardt crushed them both to his enormous chest, the three siblings finally together again. After the initial burst of elation, things settled down enough for Angela to recount how Jesse, Hanzo, Sombra and Gabriel pried her out of Moira’s clutches.

It struck Jack that Gabriel hadn’t mentioned his part in this rescue, hadn’t taken the chance to get back in Jack’s good graces. Jack didn’t have time to dwell on that though. More pressing was the fact that Moira knew they were at the Lindholms.

“And she knows Olivia’s been helpin’ us,” Jesse added, breaking a bread roll in half. “You can bet your boots Doomfist’ll know by now as well.”

They had gathered around the enormous dinner table and were discussing their options between bites of roast meat and vegetable pies.

“We should set out for Shimada immediately,” Hanzo insisted. “We could provide you asylum there.”

“No,” Reinhardt declared. “I am the rightful king. I will not abandon my birthright or my people because of some criminal uprising.”

“You would have us fight when you cannot?” Hanzo demanded.

“Give me my hammer and point me in the right direction,” Reinhardt replied with a toothy grin.

“You’d be a better shield.”

Ana interjected, cutting through the tension building between the Emperor and the King:

“Doubtless, Ogundimu will have ordered the roving Talon bandits to search for us. The odds of our caravan reaching the border are low. But we also can’t just sit here. This place is protected but it is no battle fortress. The witch will eventually figure out how to get our enemies past the wards and even with the enchanted turrets, we would be overwhelmed.”

“So, fighting is our only option,” Torbjörn said. “Specifically, we’re going to have to take back the castle. Tch. Knew you people would bring nothing but trouble.”

“Ah, my friend!” Reinhardt cried. “Think of the glory to be won!”

“Ingrid oughta bring the children to a safe place in town. Talon ain’t exactly known for sparin’ em,” Jesse said with a small shudder.

“Yes,” Ingrid agreed, already mentally tallying up which supplies to load the carriage with. “We’ll leave tonight. Your Grace, will you accompany me?”

Ana shook her head. “My duty is by my husband’s side.”

“We will guard Princess Fareeha with our lives,” Ingrid assured, sensing the ache tugging at Ana’s heart. “Won’t we, Genji?”

Genji, who had been goggling at Angela nonstop all evening, jumped at being spoken to.

“I’m old enough to fight though!” He protested. “And I have a dragon. I should stay here to help.”

“No, Lady Lindholm is right,” Hanzo agreed, resting a fond hand on his little brother’s head. “You should go with her and the children. They will need your skills to protect them.”

“But aren’t I supposed to protect my betrothed?”

The adults chuckled.

“I think, considering the circumstances,” Ana said, “it would be prudent to dissolve your arrangement with Angela.”

“Oh,” Genji said. He looked to Angela hopefully. “Can we still be friends though?”

She gave him a warm smile. “Of course. You haven’t finished teaching me how to fight with a bowstaff.”

“Okay! Then you have to keep teaching me about the human body. We made a deal. And if you’re a witch, you have to keep deals, right?”

“That’s right,” she laughed.

“Angela,” Ana said, suddenly thinking of something. “You said you can’t heal Reinhardt’s wounds, but is there some sort of exchange we could make to restore his sight?”

The whole table went quiet.

“Yes…” Angela said with evident reluctance. “But it’s not a good one. Someone else would have to give up their eyes.”

“Unacceptable,” Reinhardt declared.

“What about one eye?” Ana pressed.

“Same thing,” Angela responded. “In magic, an exchange always has to be equal. So, an eye for an eye.”

“Take one of mine.”

Exclamations and protests burst forth, the loudest from Reinhardt, but Ana sat straight-backed and unmoved in her determination.

“Perhaps we should wait for Sombra’s input,” Angela said at last. “To determine the wisdom of such an action.”

While this postponement quelled the uproar that had taken over the table, Jack’s stomach tilted at the reminder that Sombra was out looking for Gabriel and would likely return with him soon. He excused himself and headed to bed early.

While Jack could never ignore the threat bearing down on his loved ones, his only remaining family, the prospect of fighting alongside Gabriel had him picturing ways to remove himself from their grand plans of attack. He wished more than anything that he could just live the simple life he’d carved out for himself. He didn’t care about his birthright, didn’t want to be reinstated and definitely didn’t want to ever go near the castle again. He was just a bartender, he told himself.

But even in his own mind, he recognized the precarious circumstances that Jack Morrison’s existence was built on. All it would take was one person recognizing him. Or a raid could sweep in and destroy the tavern. Hell, the only reason he even had his job was because the tavernkeeper’s son, Sojourn’s brother, was murdered while attempting to stand up to Talon bandits. The anarchy devouring their country would collide with him sooner or later.

He was still just playing peasant, wasn’t he? Using it to escape the messes created by royal life.

In some grim way, Jack had been glad that the kingdom had fallen and released him from all those expectations. But as royalty, he had a duty to their country. It was one of those things that had been easy to forget in all the luxury and frivolity his parents had clogged the castle with. When he was Prince John III, he’d had power but few chances to truly help people. It was ironic that as the civilian Jack Morrison, he might be able to do some real good by taking down Talon.

He just had to first figure out a way to manage being in close quarters with Gabriel again.

Jack was still so angry at him, for lying and hiding the truth, for taking the fate of their future into his own hands without even bothering to talk to Jack about it. But Jack’s resentment had begun crumbling upon hearing of Gabriel’s willingness to shed his identity and return to being a wraith in order to rescue Angela. While it didn’t undo his earlier betrayal, it certainly made up for it more than a mere apology.

That night as Jack lay awake, he no longer tried to fight the scenarios his imagination routinely tormented him with. He revisited the library where Gabriel had kissed him, the clearing in the woods where Gabriel had stripped him of every defense, the bed that Gabriel had fucked him into. He let himself remember how gently Gabriel had placed his necklace over Jack’s head, the loving words that had accompanied the gesture, and the heartbreaking look in his brown eyes when he caught sight of it that afternoon.

Nevertheless, Jack still wouldn’t let himself walk down the hall to where Gabriel slept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GOOOOO back to Chapter One and gaze upon the jaw-droppingly gorgeous art of [Ami](https://twitter.com/Tookunami)!!!
> 
> And you know what's amazing? I didn't even specifically request knight Gabriel/prince Jack. She suggested it and I was like, 'You know that's scarily appropriate, right?'
> 
> Anyway, HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!


	23. Chapter 23

Gabriel was losing his mind.

Jack didn’t forgive him – which was fine, which was expected, which was as it should be – but there were moments… Even as Gabriel swore to a mistrustful and threatening Ana that he had no intention of attempting to rekindle anything with Jack, his traitorous heart was greedily scavenging scraps of hope.

At more than one mealtime, when they all clustered around the enormous table to discuss battle plans, he’d glance up just in time to see Jack’s blue eyes flicking elsewhere. He’d swear it felt different from the hateful looks tossed his way by others, though he was probably imagining it.

But then, blond hair mussed from sleep, Jack lingered in the corridor one morning to pass him his father’s anthology. At first, Gabriel had thought it was a spiteful returning of a gift, but Jack had been withdrawn, almost shy, mumbling a gruff thank you for rescuing Angela and walking away before Gabriel could respond.

Torbjörn roped the both of them into inventorying the arsenal, preparing it for use and hauling pieces of the armory to the carts they’d take on their charge. Jack appeared intent on ignoring Gabriel while they went about these tasks, and the clanking of metal and Torbjörn’s chatter plugged the long silence. But as they worked, their fingers kept touching, their knuckles grazing often enough for Gabriel to wonder whether Jack was doing it on purpose.

The worst was when Jack asked to spar. He’d responded to Ana’s glare of disapproval – sharpened by the sleek eyepatch – with too many valid reasons for her to protest. He hadn’t practiced with any weaponry for months and Gabriel knew better than anyone how to hone his skills.

Steel clanged in the clearing where Jack had chopped wood before. As they dueled, they circled around each other, the intimacy of parrying and thrusting impossible for Gabriel to ignore, especially when it became clear that Jack had shed his hang-ups about incorporating brawl tactics. No longer relying on his speed alone, Jack instigated a surprising amount of physical contact. He slammed his shoulder into Gabriel’s chest, twisted Gabriel’s arms, slotted his calf behind Gabriel’s to disrupt his balance.

Gabriel wrestled him back, broke his holds, tripped him up and threw him off, even though every brush of skin set his heart racing. It was torture to endure the achingly familiar smell of Jack’s sweat and the heat of his body when Gabriel had no right to give in to the overwhelming desire to kiss him senseless. He’d give anything to regain the ability to make Jack feel loved.

Gabriel knew he shouldn’t read into things, shouldn’t be hoping, shouldn’t even be allowing himself to contemplate hoping. And yet. And yet. And yet.

“Why aren’t you using your daggers?” Jack asked the third time they entered the glade.

The abrupt question startled Gabriel. Jack had said very little during their earlier training sessions. Considering his answer carefully, Gabriel set their sack of equipment at the foot of an elm. Beyond a few leather pieces, neither wore armor.

“I…figured you wouldn’t want to see them.”

“Right,” Jack scoffed. “Because if I don’t _see_ your trademark knives, I’ll forget about them dragging across my father’s throat.”

 _Like you even care that asshole’s dead_ , Gabriel nearly shot back, feeling cornered and unsettled, berating himself for thinking there was a chance Jack still loved him. 

“Just get them out,” Jack said.

“That an order?” Gabriel asked darkly. Though he was in no place to refuse Jack anything, he wasn’t just going to obediently comply with such a loaded demand.

“I don’t give orders anymore,” Jack said, glaring. “I’m just tired of you letting me win these spars.”

“I’m not letting you win,” Gabriel argued.

Jack snorted. “You’re not using the weapons you’re most adept with.”

“I’m not going to use my knives on you.”

“Then you’re not properly training me, are you?” Jack pushed. “What if someone attacks me with a knife while we’re storming the castle and I’m not prepared because _you_ insisted on sparing my feelings?”

Gabriel hesitated, dread sitting heavy and cold in his gut. The argument was sound, but there was a feverish look in Jack’s eyes that betrayed a thornier reason for insisting on this.

 _He wants to fight Reaper_ , Gabriel realized with dull resignation. _Maybe even kill him._

He wondered if Jack could, if his request for more training was merely a ruse, an excuse to get them alone with plausible deniability for injuries. Would Jack do such a thing? Once, Gabriel would have said absolutely not, but now he wasn’t sure. Grief and betrayal transformed people in volatile ways.

Slowly, Gabriel removed the twin daggers from the sack and took them in hand without any flourishes. Though they’d been cleaned and polished since they’d spilled royal blood, they still felt soiled.

Jack unsheathed his sword and slid into an attack position, the expression on his face unreadable. Gabriel mirrored his stance, his throat dry.

Jack swung his broadsword and a spark flew as Gabriel obviated the attack, redirecting the momentum with the curve of his knife. He blocked and ducked, unable to bring himself to counterattack. The thought of stabbing at Jack with these knives made him sick. His feeling of dread deepened as the spar progressed.

Fury underlined Jack’s every move, his gaze on the daggers more than his opponent. He slashed and sliced, the sword whistling through the air. Gabriel danced out of range, his own blades raised in defense as Jack drove him backwards, too lost in the haze of combat to badger Gabriel about fighting back.

The brass ring slipped free from beneath Jack’s shirt and glinted in the sunlight.

Gabriel’s eyes flicked towards it. At the same time, Jack swung his weapon in a wide arc. The heel of Gabriel’s boot caught a tree root and he stumbled in an unexpected direction, placing him directly into the path of the blade. The sword would finish its arc in Gabriel’s chest.

Time stopped. Gabriel watched in slow motion as fear obliterated the rage in Jack’s eyes. Gabriel loosened his cells and dissolved, knowing he wasn’t fast enough.

The blade caught the top of his shoulder but completed its journey through black smoke. He reformed several feet away, jamming the twin daggers back into the bag before he pressed a palm to the bloody cut. It wasn’t too deep, fortunately.

Jack was frozen in place, breathing hard through his nose, the tip of his sword kissing the earth.

Gabriel had no idea what to say. I’m sorry I didn’t let you kill me? I’m sorry I almost let you kill me? And the thing was, Jack didn’t look like he had any idea what he wanted to hear. He looked lost. Gabriel took a step forward. Jack glanced at him, thrust the sword into the ground and walked in the opposite direction.

Gabriel opened his mouth to call after him but didn’t get further than that.

Jack clenched his fists, hoping to stop them from shaking, and struggled not to think, not to feel, to fill his head with the noises of the forest. The crunching of leaves and sticks underfoot. The birds and squirrels in the branches. The hoofbeats of deer. He’d just attacked Gabriel.

Which was his right, wasn’t it? Reinhardt, Ana and a number of others certainly thought so. A man was meant to retaliate against the person who killed his father. It sounded so straightforward like that. But when his father had been an objectively cruel, selfish person? But when the murderer loved him and had risked his own life to save Jack’s? When and how and why could exceptions be made?

Jack slumped down with his back against the rough bark of a wide tree and buried his face in his hands. His lungs tightened in panic. Gabriel’s eyes had been on the necklace instead of the death Jack was bringing down upon him. He hadn’t even been fighting back. Jack had wanted him to suffer, to hurt him the way he’d been hurt. But he—he didn’t want Gabriel to die.

Jack didn’t know if that made him an idiot or not.

He returned to the clearing to find Gabriel cleaning the wound in his shoulder with a rag soaked in water. The cut ran two inches front to back, but it was shallow. His shirt had been peeled off and lay bloodstained beside him. Their small medical supply kit had been upended on the grass.

They looked at one other. After a long moment, Jack closed the distance between them and knelt down, holding out his hand. Gabriel faltered, but then handed him the rag. Neither spoke as Jack staunched the bleeding, spread ointment and applied bandages. They were both too focused on the feeling of Jack’s fingers gently trailing over Gabriel’s bare skin, remembering the few sweet weeks when their hands and mouths had mapped every inch of each other.

There was no real need to patch Gabriel up this way. Angela’s magic could erase the wound as though it had never happened. But Jack understood without asking why Gabriel was choosing to heal naturally. Some scars were necessary. They marked where you’d been. They marked _who_ you’d been.

The job finished, Jack stood and gathered up their equipment. If he walked slightly closer to Gabriel on the way back to the main house, he told himself it was only because he was worried about Gabriel’s injury.

That evening, Ana declared:

“We are ready.”

Torbjörn’s furnaces had churned out an arsenal of turrets and armor and weapons, his workshop emptied of every last scrap of metal. After preparing and bottling gallons of potions, Ingrid had departed with Genji, Fareeha and her youngest children. Hundreds of tents had been pitched around the Lindholm property, housing supporters who had gathered to lend their aid.

Hanzo had restocked his cache of arrows. The dragons were well-rested and itching for a fight. Jesse had practiced swordsmanship with his metal hand until it was as dexterous as his flesh one. Ana could now hit 100 targets out of 100 with her crossbow, even while dodging attacks, even after she'd given up her left eye. A row of alchemical brews clinked on her belt. Soaring through the air, Angela was armed not only with healing spells but magical attacks as well. Sombra had sharpened her steel-tipped nails and disseminated critical information about Talon’s defense and retaliation strategies.

With one eye scarred and the other glinting bright, wielding an enormous war hammer, Reinhardt looked the very picture of a determined warrior king you wanted to follow into battle. They would leave at midnight and lay siege to the castle in the moonless dark.


	24. Chapter 24

The thing was, when they arrived at the castle to begin their uprising, they found one already in progress.

The gates of the outer keep were manned by Talon sentries sporting an array of fatal injuries. Marching in, they could see chaos along the parapets and battlements, brawls reduced to sparks and clanks in the dark. Battle cries and screams of pain periodically echoed throughout the courtyard, half-illuminated by inconsistent torchlight. Judging from the racket spilling out of the castle windows, there was just as much pandemonium inside.

Talon guards raced around in panic, trying to determine what was happening and scrambling to regroup, hollering contradictory countermeasures at each other.

Flanking their King on horseback, Ana and Jack looked on in confusion, struggling to identify their allies in the flickering shadows.

Reinhardt, however, had never been one for patience. If a battle was happening, he intended to win it. _Why_ the battle was happening didn’t strike him as terribly important. His enemies were being cut down without him and that just wouldn’t do.

“FORWARD!” he bellowed, charging into the fray on his tall stallion. His hammer cleaved through a pair of unlucky Talon foot soldiers.

The ragtag resistance hollered and ran after him, swords raised and thirsty for blood. Jesse and Hanzo led squads into the fray, keeping a wary eye out for Ashe. Ana and Jack hung back to survey the situation.

“Looks like we’re not the only ones who have a bone to pick with Talon,” Ana commented. She neatly sank an arrow into the eye of an enemy bowman who had taken aim at Reinhardt. “Though our allies don’t appear to be very coordinated nor well-instructed in military strategy.”

Jack didn’t respond. While fending off an attacker wielding a spear, out of the corner of his eye he noticed black smoke creeping through the grand doors to the castle, which were swinging on their hinges.

Sombra opened a man’s throat with her nails as she darted to Jack’s side. Perturbed by the smell of blood, his mare’s hooves stumbled on the slick cobblestones of the courtyard.

“It’s Winston,” Sombra supplied breathlessly, grabbing onto the bridle. “He coordinated this rebellion.”

“Winston?” Jack echoed in disbelief, struggling to picture the gentle bath attendant attacking anyone.

“GET DOWN!” Sombra yanked the reins hard enough that the horse’s legs went out from under her and Jack found himself crashing to the ground.

In the same instant, a squirmy beam of magic punched through the exact place where his chest had been.

“Such a flawed creation,” cackled a cold voice.

Moira stood tall and deadly amidst the clashing steel, her eyes vivid with toxic magic and her spidery fingers curled into claws. Jack and Sombra slid into defensive stances, weapons raised despite how futile they were in the face of her attacks.

“Stay away from them!” Angela cried, swooping down from the sky on her broomstick and placing herself directly between the witch and her brother.

“Mercy, my pet,” Moira crooned in delight. “Did you miss me?”

“Angela, no!” Jack yelled.

“It’s okay,” Angela said, not taking her sights off Moira. “This is my fight.”

Cold fear snaked through Jack at the thought of Moira’s poisonous attacks aimed at his sister, but there was little he could do in a contest of magic. More Talon guards rushed their way, demanding his attention.

Angela spun her broomstick, transforming it into a staff that she planted into the ground. The top glowed with a white-gold fire. She didn’t hesitate. She flew at Moira, shooting off volleys of light in between swings of her staff. Moira was quick though, wraithing out of range and responding with sharp slices of purple enchantments. They danced around one another in a blinding whirl, the heat and chill of their spells felt by all nearby.

Moira launched a great ball of toxic energy. Angela avoided it but the sphere continued to roll through the air behind her, leeching life from anyone it came in contact with, friend or foe. It ricocheted off the stone keep and Angela let out a cry as it caught her by surprise square in the back.

Moira laughed, suddenly very close, and kicked the staff away. A hand closed around Angela’s pale throat. Teeth bared, the redhead squeezed and conjured another poisonous sphere in her other hand.

“You can’t win,” she taunted. “I’ve lived hundreds of years more than you, little girl. You can’t even comprehend the things I can do, the things I’ve seen.”

Angela gasped in air, scratching at the hold on her throat, and stared into Moira’s glittering blue eyes. With the last of her energy, Angela summoned white light in the palms of her hands and slammed them forward into Moira’s face.

Moira shrieked and dropped her to clutch at her eyes. Coughing, Angela stumbled, falling to one knee. However, she looked at the other witch with satisfaction. Moira shakily peeled her hands away. Dark patches resembling tattoos engulfed the skin surrounding her eyes, a pool of ink around each, and when her eyelids creaked open, her irises were bright red.

Moira looked around at the world, head whipping left and right, fear evident on her face.

“No…” She moaned. “What is this? What did you do?”

“I’m giving you the chance to see something new,” Angela said, regaining her feet.

“This is horrible,” Moira sobbed, tears beginning to stream down her thin cheeks. She hugged herself. “So many people…”

“This is the pain you cause others, now plain as day. You’ll live the rest of your life unable to escape it.”

Moira covered her eyes, shoulders heaving as she wept, overwhelmed by scenes of grief and pain. Parents broken after she’d stolen their children. Lovers devastated after she’d extracted their partners’ lives as payment. The agony of her spells eating away at the flesh of those unable to pay.

“I…I can’t— I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“I will make you a deal,” Angela continued, voice clear and firm. “Relinquish your ties with Talon and never again interfere with the politics of this nation. And I’ll remove the spell from one of your eyes.”

“Both eyes!” Moira demanded.

“Take the deal or leave it. Those are my terms.”

Moira gnashed her teeth and let out a harsh cry. “Fine!” She screamed at last.

Angela smiled.

Meanwhile, in the chaos of the castle, Gabriel snaked his way towards the throne room, betting that’s where he’d find Akande. The man may have had a distinct dislike of royal rulers but he certainly had the ego of one.

He resumed his human shape just inside the doors of the great hall, which was consumed with fighting. In direct contrast to his spar with Jack, this time Gabriel had no reluctance unsheathing his knives and spinning them into both hands. He pinpointed Doomfist easily in the fray, gauntlet whistling through the air as he fought off…Winston and Lena?

Gabriel stopped and observed in amazement as people he’d known as mild-mannered servants appeared to be giving the Talon Commander a real fight.

“The prodigal son returns,” mused a familiar voice. The cold edge of a broadsword pressed into Gabriel’s throat. “Why are you here?”

Baptiste hadn’t wielded a sword in years but medical work had kept his grip steady as ever. Emily stood behind him, a suspicious scowl on her freckled face and a frying pan clutched in her hand.

“Don’t tell me you’re back on Talon’s side,” Gabriel said.

Baptiste huffed out a laugh but didn’t move his blade. “Why are you here?”

“To make Akande pay.”

“You’ll forgive me if I don’t believe you.”

“He framed my father for murder, lied to me for years and trapped me in the form of a wraith. I’m _slightly_ pissed about it,” Gabriel growled.

A female cry of pain rang out.

“Lena!” Emily yelped.

Akande’s golden gauntlet sported drops of Lena’s blood. She clutched at her side, where a pool of red was spreading. The gauntlet caught the light as Akande drew back his fist, ready to pummel Lena into dust. Winston had been tossed backwards and was scrambling to get to his feet in time.

With no subtlety or strategy, Emily bolted straight at their opponent, frying pan raised high. Gabriel saw Akande’s gaze flick towards her, recognized the slight shift in stance that meant he intended to redirect the hit to Emily. It would rip straight through her.

Wraithing, Gabriel shot across the filthy floor as fast as he could, reappeared behind Akande and embedded a dagger in the unarmored gap between the top of his steel-toed boot and the back of his knee.

Akande staggered with a grunt but managed to raise the gauntlet in time to meet Emily’s frying pan with an almighty _CLANG!_ Though he’d avoided getting his face smashed in, he lurched sideways, off-balance. His sword swung down towards Gabriel, who dodged at the last second, jerking his knife out of Akande’s leg.

Emily dragged Lena away, a hand under each armpit, and Baptiste rushed to meet them, a healing salve and cloth bandages already in hand.

“Miss me?” Gabriel sneered, circling around Doomfist.

“One always misses gullible followers,” Akande replied, an intimidating foe in spite of his fresh injuries. “I taught you everything you know. You really think you’re going to come out on top here?”

He was right, Gabriel realized. Akande knew his fighting style inside and out. It would be nearly impossible to get the jump on him. There was only one thing he could think of that would take Akande by surprise.

Girding himself, Gabriel launched into the fight. His daggers glanced off Akande’s gauntlet and armor and bloodstained blade, guided away from flesh at every turn. Gabriel waited for the right moment, the right opening, the right opportunity.

There!

A bellow tore out of Akande as both of Gabriel’s daggers ripped into the tender muscles above his armpits, shredding them. His arms dangled loose and useless. But a chuckle escaped him.

His sword was buried in Gabriel’s stomach, two inches to the left of his bellybutton, a needle threading the pieces of leather armor. The tip broke through the skin of his back. Gabriel’s senses jangled and blanked. He didn’t dare go into wraith form, afraid that when the wound reemerged with him that he’d bleed to death in seconds.

“You wanted to best me so badly, you gave your own life?” Akande asked, disbelieving and disdainful. “Well, I certainly didn’t teach you such idiotic martyr tactics. Still a sentimental moron. Give your father my regards when you see him in the afterlife.”

A solid punch from Winston’s meaty fist sent Doomfist sprawling across the floor, drawing another bellow from him as he jarred the knives sticking out from his bloodied shoulders.

Gabriel felt his heartbeat in the steel skewering him, every pulse wrong and awful.

Fatal.

His every instinct told him that.

And yet, he wasn’t bleeding out. The wound seemed to be frozen in time, his blood visible and bright red yet unmoving. The pain was still excruciating, but he…wasn’t dying?

Baptiste had a hand outstretched, his gaze focused unwaveringly on something above Gabriel’s head. A large crystal, carved to look like a disc, hovered in midair. It hummed with magic as it twirled. A faint pillar of light shone down on Gabriel.

“Don’t leave the immortality field,” Baptiste ordered. “Can you dissolve to get the sword out?”

Even though Gabriel was seconds away from puking his own organs out, he somehow pulled together enough energy to do so. The steel clattered to the ground and his knees followed as his strength left him, though he managed to keep most of his body within the ethereal light, which continued to pause the damage from his injury. Interwoven with the astonishing pain, hunger gnawed at his gut. He struggled not to notice the faint glow of the others’ souls calling to him, as tempting as freshly baked bread.

Baptiste retrieved medical supplies from his satchel and began applying a compress to Gabriel’s wounds. He rolled his eyes when Gabriel grunted at him.

“Thank you for saving me, Baptiste,” Baptiste drawled. “ _Oh_ , you’re welcome.”

Gabriel declined to say that no matter what Baptiste or even Angela did for his injury, he’d be unable to heal unless he consumed several human souls. Gluey revulsion clung to his ribs at the thought. He’d accomplished his goal, had finally achieved vengeance against the man responsible for his father’s death. Maybe this was for the best. Maybe this was the end of his story.

With Doomfist defeated, the remaining Talon guards scattered and fled, or threw down their weapons and surrendered. Emily and Lena helped Winston clamp heavy shackles onto Akande’s wrists and ankles, the sets linked by a short chain that prevented him from straightening out fully.

“What are you doing?” Gabriel asked.

“There’s been enough killing,” Winston said. “There are better ways to deal with lawbreakers. And that has to start now.”

Akande laughed in disbelief.

“You’re a fool,” Gabriel coughed out.

“Maybe.” A primal grin spread across Winston’s face. “But I’m not the one in chains.”


	25. Chapter 25

Despite Winston’s intentions to begin an era of incarceration in lieu of execution, plenty of blood painted the grounds by daybreak. The remaining members of the Talon legion were either absconding through the dense forest or chained in the castle dungeons.

While Reinhardt subjected them all to booming laughter and calls for victory ale, his two younger siblings eyeballed the castle with nausea. So much of their home had been destroyed, ancient banners ripped to shreds, heirloom furniture burned or hacked to splinters, every piece of art ransacked or smashed. Not to mention the gore coating half the surfaces in sight. Neither Jack nor Angela had the courage to face the library, dreading the state they’d find it in.

They joined the others in the great hall, where Angela peeled off to heal the people who would let her. To her dismay, many of the wounded recoiled at and refused a witch’s help, even if it cost them a limb.

Ana snorted at their superstitions and was more than happy to let Angela magic away the cuts and bruises she’d sustained over the course of the battle. She patted Angela’s cheek and smiled at Jack as he approached.

“How is everybody?” Jack asked, weary.

“I’ve seen worse,” Ana said. “We lost about a third of our numbers. Torbjörn lost an arm but he's intent on shrugging it off. Hanzo took a hard hit to his ribs but he’ll be alright. Jesse succeeded in capturing Ashe. You should have heard the stream of vitriol she unleashed as he dragged her down to the cells. Zaryanova, Fawkes, Rutledge and a few other notables managed to flee.” Her lips pressed together in anger. “I landed a direct hit on Amélie but couldn’t stop her from escaping.”

“We’ll find her,” Jack assured absently.

He waited. Ana’s expression hardened as she realized who he was actually hoping for news of.

“He’s alive,” she bit out. “Over there.”

Jack followed her line of sight to see Gabriel slumped against the wall near the doors, an arm wrapped protectively around his gored stomach but standing on his own two feet. Near him, Sombra and Baptiste chatted with Lena and Emily.

With the relief, exhaustion settled on Jack’s shoulders like an anchor, the adrenaline draining and leaving a bottomless desire for rest in its wake. The only thing that kept him from falling asleep on his feet was the bone-deep yearning to go to Gabriel, to just be near him. Jack had barely taken a step in his direction before Reinhardt roared:

“I could have you imprisoned for the mere suggestion!”

“We didn’t overthrow a despot just to replace him with another!” Winston yelled back, equally fierce. He was the only man in the room to match Reinhardt in size.

“I am the rightful king! You cannot deny that!”

“The concept of royal bloodlines is a farce!”

“Usurper! You have no honor!”

“If you can’t accept resigning from rule, we’ll move you to the dungeons as well!”

The crowded hall grew tense, the gathered allies on the precipice of splitting into warring factions. The two men faced each other, a pair of titans with their teeth bared, their vehement words teetering towards real violence.

Jack saw red. Absolutely _done_ with power grabs and their bloody fallouts, he moved to stand between them, his jawline hard with resolve.

“Reinhardt, listen to me.”

“This ape is no better than Doomfist!”

“What!?” Winston spluttered. “I’m insisting on democracy, not anarchy!”

“Hah! The public cannot—”

“LISTEN TO ME!” Jack commanded.

Both men were startled into silence.

From the far wall, Gabriel raised an eyebrow, impressed but not surprised at how that authoritative tone suited Jack’s deep voice.

“Look around you,” Jack ordered, intense and unwavering. “These people have fought for the right not to suffer. Are you going to lead them into more suffering? Or are we going to work out a damned compromise?”

Gabriel smirked at the sullen, abashed expressions on Reinhardt and Winston’s faces. Jack’s words carried easily through the hall, illustrating the possibility of a government that wove monarchy and democracy into a solid system of leadership. Gabriel could see the hope spreading through the crowd as plainly as he could see their souls, ripe and delicious.

A pang spasmed through him. He was so hungry. It was so tempting. Just one. If he had just one, he would—

Gabriel left Baptiste and Sombra enthralled by the debate and slipped out into the corridor. On foot, he made his way to the grand staircase and began to climb. The lightheadedness made it slow-going. The wound in his stomach throbbed hot. Fresh blood soaked the bandages. More than once, he had to pause and catch his breath, driving home the terrifying truth that he probably only had a small number of breaths left.

Seemed that death frightened him after all, he thought ruefully. He staggered into the antechamber that had become his home and crossed to Jack’s rooms, where they’d been happy together. The bedroom was a mess, every valuable stolen, pillows slashed, downy feathers everywhere.

Gabriel lay in the bed that had smelled like Jack once, hissing sharply at the pain, too weak to stop his extremities from dissolving into smoke. Sprawled on his back, he didn’t have the strength to react when Moira stepped from the shadows.

Haggard, she had a hand flattened over one of her eyes. Gabriel caught a glimpse of a dark patch beneath her fingers.

“Well, Gabriel,” she began, sounding shaken and manic. “You’ve managed to make a dog’s breakfast of just about everything, haven’t you? Began a rebellion and then backtracked and tried to undo it. Bungled love. Ruined lives. Failed to restore Angela's youth. And now look at you, poor hungry little wraith.”

Gabriel leveled a baleful glare at her. “If you’re going to kill me, shut up and get on with it.”

“I wouldn’t give anyone in my debt the pleasure of death. Since you broke the mask, your third debt wasn’t properly repaid.”

“ _You_ broke the mask.”

“A direct consequence of actions you engineered.”

“You just love your loopholes, don’t you?”

“Yes.” She gave him a smile that was more like a grimace. “I’m here to exploit another one. I can restore your humanity, release you from the wraith and from your debts to me.”

“In exchange for what?” Gabriel watched her carefully, terrified by the disintegrating cold of his own body.

“If Jack takes your place.”

Gabriel huffed out a painful laugh and shook his head. “Agreeing to that would make restoring my humanity impossible.”

“You need to accept this deal.”

“I really don’t.”

Moira snarled in fury, fingers digging into the skin around her strange eye.

“It's not like Mercy would let Jack remain a wraith for long,” she said through gritted teeth.

“What’s it to you?”

“The little bitch cursed me. But I know her. She’ll undo her spell in exchange for her brother’s well-being. Then, you and your prince can go live happily ever after, and more importantly, _I_ can.”

A wistful look crossed Gabriel’s face. There was an ache in his chest that had nothing to do with his wounds.

“No,” he said. “If you want to undo whatever Angela did to you that badly, you probably deserve to live with it.”

“Tch, annoying,” Moira said, attempting and failing to feign nonchalance. “I’d hoped your pending death might change your mind. You will die here, you know. This is your last chance.”

“You’ve never been in love, have you?”

Moira vanished without responding.

Downstairs in the great hall, flagons of ale and baskets of bread were passed around as Jack, Ana, Reinhardt and Winston discussed and debated and shaped the future of their country, listening to suggestions called out by people in the crowd. Compromises were made, some easier to swallow than others. Drafts were written and scratched out and rewritten. Jack’s gaze periodically flicked to Sombra, tracking when the direction of their dialogue drew a nod or a frown from her.

They determined that Reinhardt would reign but not rule as King, a symbol of national unity with limited authority. A governing council would be formed to take charge of laws and the enactment of them, and the members of this council would be elected democratically.

Fatigue brought the discussion to a halt. The constitution they’d hammered out was rudimentary, but it would do for now. Jack glanced towards the back wall, his heart in his throat when he realized that Gabriel was absent. He caught sight of Angela and asked her if she knew where Gabriel had gone.

Concern crinkling her forehead, she peered around at the throng. Unable to find him, she conjured what appeared to be a bumblebee of light in her palm and let it float into the air. A locator spell. They followed it out to the corridor and up the staircase. Jack had a feeling he knew where it was leading and sure enough, it zipped into his chambers. He hesitated outside of the antechamber, unprepared for the rush of feeling stirred by his return to this place. The quiet made him curious though. And worried.

“Gabriel?” Jack called as he crossed to his rooms.

Angela trailed after, picking her way carefully over the debris. The locator spell disappeared with a pop above the bed.

“Gabe!”

Jack rushed to the bedside and shook Gabriel’s shoulder. He didn’t react. He was breathing, but barely. His warm complexion had faded to an ashen brown and wisps of wraith smoke consumed his arms up to his elbows and his legs below the knees, vanishing like morning mist.

“What’s wrong with him?” Jack demanded, frantic.

Angela chewed her lip as she inspected his prone body.

“Wraiths need to feed every few weeks, more if they’re injured. I don’t think he’s consumed a soul since the day they rescued me.”

“What? But there are piles of bodies downstairs. Why didn’t he just feed on someone in battle?”

“I‘m not sure.”

“Well, we’ve got prisoners, right?”

“Yes…” Angela’s gaze settled on her brother. “Could you kill an innocent person to save his life?”

“Members of Talon aren’t innocent.”

“But we _will_ run out of prisoners eventually. And then what will you do? Pick citizens at random? Think about it, Jack. It’s only a matter of time before Gabriel will have to take an innocent life to keep his own. He probably knows that. That’s probably why he refused to feed.”

“I _can’t_ watch him die," Jack said, ragged and desperate. "I can’t. I know I should hate him but… _Please._ Save him. I can trade something, right?”

“I can’t save him.”

“Damnit, Angela! Why not?”

“Because you have to,” she said gently. “A witch’s curse can only be neutralized by two things. The witch herself can lift it or… You know the other one.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake. He’s a starving wraith. He’ll accidentally suck my soul out.”

“I guess that’s a risk you’ll have to take. Is it worth it?”

“True love’s kiss is hardly going to help us here. Name me one story where it’s true love between two men.”

“You really think that ring around your neck has some sort of enchantment on it?” She scoffed with impatience. “That’s as true as your excuse for why you’re still wearing it. You were protected by something stronger than that.”

Tears cut into Jack’s vision as he stared at Gabriel, vulnerable and dying, red fanning around him like the petals of a flower. Angela placed a comforting hand on his back and left the two of them alone.

Jack’s heart pounded. This could kill him. After all the betrayal and bloodshed between them, it was impossible that this was true love. A kiss would save Gabriel though, one way or another. But was that what Gabriel wanted? Would he want Jack to sacrifice himself only for Gabriel to live on as a monster? Jack didn’t know. But he couldn’t watch Gabriel die. He couldn’t.

Jack brushed his knuckles over Gabriel’s cheek, cold beneath his touch, and leaned over. The brass ring dangled between their chests. Jack moistened his lips and Gabriel’s faint exhale brushed his face.

Gabriel should have inhaled his next breath the moment before their lips touched.

He didn’t.

Jack held the kiss for a few seconds before he drew back.

Nothing happened.

Gabriel lay completely lifeless. Not moving. Not breathing.

Jack’s blood ran cold.

No, no, no, no, no.

He cradled Gabriel’s face in both hands and kissed him again.

And again. And again, sobbing into it, keeping his mouth pressed to Gabriel’s.

 _Please,_ his heart begged. _Please..._

Gabriel suddenly gasped in an enormous breath, spine bowing as he strained to pull in enough air.

He choked, wheezing as though he’d just broken the surface of drowning waters. His eyes blinked open but only saw a blur of blue and pale gold, so he kept them shut as he rode out the prolonged struggle to steady his breathing.

It struck him that the pain skewering his midsection had vanished. Though his limbs felt heavy, like they were filled with sand, he was warm, swaddled in a cozy heat he never wanted to leave. Jack’s arms, his senses told him.

Jack’s arms?

Gabriel eked his eyes open once more and the colors morphed into shapes he recognized. Jack’s face was barely an inch from his own, eyes wide with wonder and eyelashes dark with tears. Gabriel reached out and touched them, felt the wetness on his fingertips.

“Why’re you crying?” He mumbled.

Jack let out an incredulous huff and crushed himself to Gabriel’s chest, burying his face in his neck and tangling their legs. He was shaking with laughter or tears or both. Gabriel tentatively hugged his shoulders and tried to piece together what he remembered, distracted by the howling joy of holding Jack close again.

And then Gabriel realized he wasn’t hungry. He couldn’t sense the temptation of Jack’s soul. He held up a hand. Eyes on his own fingers, he attempted to shift them into smoke and found he couldn’t.

“I’m not a wraith anymore,” he whispered. A hard edge of fear crashed into him. “Jack, what did you do? Please tell me you didn’t make a deal with Moira.”

Jack drew back enough to peer into Gabriel’s face, and shook his head with a smile that made Gabriel’s stomach flutter.

“What kind of idiot would make a deal with a witch like her?”

“Shut up,” Gabriel said with a snicker. “So then, what did you— _mph!_ ”

Jack kissed him, insistent and loving, hands clasped around the sides of his neck. Warm and sweet, Jack’s lips chased his open and Gabriel’s heart threatened to burst out of his chest. Was this what saved him? A hard knot of emotion caught in his throat as he kissed back. Here was everything he thought he’d lost forever. Everything he wanted. Everything he didn’t deserve.

He stroked down the side of Jack’s face and took a gentle hold of his chin. Gabriel broke the kiss and it felt like dying all over again. He stared into the depths of Jack’s blue eyes, getting lost in them, and let out a shaky breath.

“I should go,” he said. “If Ana doesn’t take my head off, Reinhardt certainly will.”

“Go where?” Jack asked, his grip unconsciously tightening.

“Plenty of rogue knights and Talon bandits tormenting the countryside. I’ll make hunting them down my sport.”

“Gabe—” Jack fumbled for words, pulse pounding. “Can I—? I mean, well, it’s not much of a sport with one person playing.”

“You can’t come.”

Jack opened and closed his mouth.

“Oh,” he said softly, turning stiff and awkward in Gabriel’s embrace.

Gabriel’s eyes flew wide.

“No, Jesus! I didn’t mean—it’s not that— Fuck, of course I _want_ you to come but— you’re a prince. Your place is here.”

The smile that spread over Jack’s face outshone the sun.

“John III was a prince and not a very good one. I’m Jack Morrison. And there’s nowhere I need to be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Never thought I’d write a story with such a literal fairytale ending, but fuck it, the world could use a few right now. Next week, things will be wrapped up with a terribly fluffy epilogue. So many hugs and kisses to everyone who’s been reading along <3 Your warm comments have meant the world to me


	26. Epilogue

Jack released the reins to stretch his arms overhead, his stiff back creaking as much as the leather saddle beneath him. It had been a long few weeks on horseback and he was no longer young enough to simply shrug off such extended discomfort. They’d only stopped when night closed in, too dark and dangerous to continue, but it was hardly a respite as they camped on the hard ground rather than risk bringing their bounty to an inn.

This morning as they’d crested a hill, the castlecame into view at long last. As mixed as his feelings were about his home, one thing he unwaveringly looked forward to was soaking in the baths.

“Is life with him really worth all these aches?” Amélie asked in her delicate accent.

“Quiet,” Jack growled.

Gabriel rode several meters ahead. They’d decided it was best if their bound captive was slung over the back of Jack’s horse rather than his. It was easier that way. Despite many years apart, Gabriel still nursed a kernel of affection towards his old partner.

“I mean,” Amélie continued. “It speaks volumes that he disagrees with you on something so—”

“I can present you to Ana gagged, if you’d prefer,” Jack snapped.

Her silence was smug and knowing. He stared at the twin swords crossed over Gabriel’s broad back, listening to the clopping of hooves and the bird calls above. It was a beautiful afternoon but anger and hurt stewed in his gut, a low fear that this would be the disagreement that dragged them apart.

The sound of galloping reached them. Gabriel slowed, allowing Jack to catch up and ride abreast with him. If they were under attack from yet another hunter attempting to snatch Amélie, infamous thanks to her high price, it was better for them to face it together.

When a familiar pony appeared on the road before them, Gabriel and Jack not only relaxed but smiled.

“You’re baaaaack!” The little rider cried, standing up in her stirrups. “And you finally caught her!”

“Hello niece,” Jack laughed, stooping to let her kiss his cheek.

Fareeha trotted around to demand Gabriel do the same, sticking her tongue out at Amélie’s glare, but then stopped and stared in amazement.

“Who is she?” Fareeha asked, as forward and self-assured as her mother, even at 10 years old.

Framed by Gabriel's bulky arms, a skinny girl about half her age sat at the front of his saddle. Eyes huge, she shrank back from Fareeha's curiosity.

“This is Hana Song,” Jack explained. “Her family was killed when her village was raided by bandits.”

“We decided it was best to bring her to one of the capital's orphanages,” Gabriel supplied, ignoring Jack’s huff of anger and the way Hana’s little shoulders hunched. “They’re better than the sweatshops that pass for orphanages in other cities.”

“Not like she’s gotten attached to us or anything,” Jack muttered under his breath.

“We’re not going over this again,” Gabriel shot back, even as he adjusted his grip so Hana could sit more comfortably.

An odd tension hung over them but, as with most children, Fareeha quickly grew bored of opaque adult drama and begged for news of her father. Reinhardt had ridden out over a month ago, leading another crusade to clean the countryside of criminals. As they continued traveling towards the castle, Gabriel related that they’d encountered the King quite recently, acting hale and hearty as ever in spite of his age.

“Does he still hate you?” Fareeha asked cheekily.

“Of course he does. He hates especially that you don’t hate me. Got any news?”

“Yeah! Lots! You have a bunch of letters from Jesse. He says that him, the Emperor and Genji are—”

“You read my mail?”

Fareeha had the decency to look embarrassed. “Well, sort of. Bastion lets me visit him in the aviary because he knows I like being up high, and maybe…one or two of the letters opened by themselves?”

At Gabriel’s scowl, she turned to Jack in a rush, “Mom’s super busy with High Council stuff, and she’s working really hard to get more libraries and schools built, like you asked.”

Jack’s anger at Gabriel was forgotten for a few seconds, making room for a warm feeling. He’d been pressing Ana, Winston and the rest of the council to improve the nation’s literacy rate for a while now. It had been a dream of his since his bartending days had shown him how bereft the common people were of knowledge. If this fledgling democracy was to last, people needed to be educated enough to know what they were voting for.

To Jack’s unceasing relief, gone was a time when his return to the capital would be heralded with trumpets and banners and a parting of the crowds. When he rode along the bustling streets these days, it was at Gabriel’s side as half a bounty-hunting duo rather than at the head of some pompous procession. The castle had been heavily refurbished following Doomfist’s rebellion. It now housed not only the royal family but also the High Council’s chambers and the hospital, run jointly by Baptiste and Angela.

Even presenting Amélie to the Queen wasn’t as highfalutin an affair as it once would have been. Instead of parading through court, they convened in a modest meeting room. Where once there would have been a lavish ball to celebrate their homecoming and the capture of such a high-profile bounty, Ana merely gave them a grim smile of satisfaction, told them to report to the Finance Councilor for their reward and invited them to catch up over dinner. Her one-eyed gaze lingered on Gabriel and her smile softened. And Gabriel knew that what remained of her grudge against him had dissipated at long last with the apprehension of Amélie.

They left Ana to her duties. Before Gabriel could protest, Jack marched off towards the baths with Hana in hand. Fareeha trailed after them, excited to dress the younger girl up in some of her old clothes.

Annoyed, Gabriel headed in the opposite direction, navigating the familiar corridors. He'd warned Jack not to pamper Hana. Exposing her to the castle's luxuries would only make moving into the orphanage that much harder.

The library, with all its memories and stories, soothed him, as it had from the first day Jack had brought him here. But even as Gabriel basked in the rich, quiet atmosphere, he sighed. He hated quarreling with Jack. 

Siebren was at one of the round tables in discussion with a man Gabriel didn’t know, a thin monk with a shaved head and robes that appeared to be from Shimada.

“Ah, Gabriel,” Siebren said, standing to shake his hand. “I expect you’ve brought my books back to me in pristine condition.”

Gabriel winced a bit as he unpacked the half dozen novels from a satchel. “A bit dented, I’m afraid. But I did find that history you’ve been searching for.”

Siebren inspected the library books with a pinched expression, but he couldn’t hide his delight when Gabriel handed over a thick tome on the history of natural phenomena on the continent.

“Where are my manners? This is Zenyatta,” Siebren introduced, gesturing to the monk, who bowed his head in greeting. “He’s here on behalf of Lady Mei in Shimada, though is originally from Omnica. We’ve been collaborating on some fascinating research on…”

As Siebren rambled on with the single-mindedness of a professor on a beloved topic, Gabriel felt an odd sensation begin in the back of his brain, a tickle, as though someone was lightly tapping his skull. He jumped at the first opportunity to escape Siebren’s impromptu lecture on the science of weather patterns. Outside the mahogany doors, the tapping sensation faded when he faced left, so he turned right and followed it until he came to a broad balcony that overlooked the courtyard.

Though Gabriel had little interest in a view that reminded him of the worst parts of himself, a smile spread over his face at the woman leaning against the stone balustrade.

“Miss me?” Sombra asked.

“Still asking questions you already know the answer to,” Gabriel scoffed.

He opened his arms and she launched herself into them. Even as she complained that he smelled, she let out a laugh as his hug picked her up off her feet. When she pulled back, however, she had a bemused frown on her face. Gabriel had been expecting this.

“Your lifestyle as bounty hunters makes you unsuitable to be parents?” She recited with a raised eyebrow. “Is that really the excuse you’re going with?”

Gabriel rolled his eyes and turned to gaze out over the castle grounds. Just because he’d anticipated this conversation didn’t mean he was going to enjoy it.

“It’s true,” he said.

“Uh huh.”

“Stop it.”

“Stop what? Seeing straight through your bullshit?”

“It would be an unnecessary burden and distraction to have her around. We don’t have the energy to spare. We don’t know anything about raising kids.”

“Yep, it’s definitely not because you’re terrified.”

Gabriel sighed, slouching onto his elbows. “You can see from my thoughts how vulnerable she is. The people we meet on the road are not the kind of people you want anywhere near a young girl.”

“I can also see that she’s a bratty little spitfire. You could train her.”

“Let me guess. It’s our destiny or something to look after this kid and if we don’t do it, the future’s fucked.”

“Not quite,” Sombra snorted. “You and Jack would just be happier in the long run. That’s all.”

“You can’t accurately see that far ahead.”

“I can see enough.”

Gabriel absorbed this, unconsciously running his knuckles over the bump beneath his shirt, a ring of pure gold on a silver chain. Jack had had it custom-made for him years ago, after they’d rounded up Junkrat and Roadhog and discovered Jack’s crown in their sack of stolen treasures. Jack had it melted down, pleased to transform this heavy mark of his old life into a symbol of his new one. The remaining gold had paid for updated weaponry for the both of them.

The gold ring clinked against his mother's wedding band whenever he and Jack kissed with their shirts off. It was one of Gabriel’s favorite sounds.

“You’re so frickin’ sappy,” Sombra snickered.

“What if we can’t protect her?” He asked quietly.

Sombra nudged his shoulder with her own. “You protected me just fine.”

“You’ve got—”

“A bit of a natural advantage, yeah, but Hana would have you _and_ Jack.”

"It's a big risk."

"The best things in life usually are."

Gabriel wrapped an arm around her shoulders, his sigh trailing into a laugh. “Why’re you always fucking up the direction of my life?”

“Oh no, that’s all your doing. I’m just here to point out you’re an idiot.”

By the time Gabriel had scrubbed off the grime of travel and changed into clean clothes, it was nearly the appointed hour to meet Ana for dinner, where Angela would join them as well. In the room they were staying in, a chamber in the castle set aside for guests, he caught sight of himself in the looking glass on the wall and shook his head in amusement.

Scarfing down meals in the Talon barracks as a teenager, he’d dreamed of dining in luxury in the royal banquet hall, and now it was a regular enough occurrence that he was low-key dreading the effect all that rich food would have on his stomach after months of sparse meals on the road. His younger self could never have predicted the path that would lead him to this moment — falling in love with a prince, becoming a soul-devouring wraith, dying, being revived by a kiss, traveling the world with his true love by his side. And Sombra was right. Every one of those steps involved risk that was terrifying in hindsight.

He waited outside the doors to the banquet hall, gazing out one of the large windows and naming the stars as they appeared in the sky. Orion. Cassiopeia. Canis Major and Minor.

Fareeha’s chatter preceded her appearance. As she rounded the corner with Hana on her arm, Gabriel was struck by the change in the girl they'd saved. While she'd been understandably reticent since Jack dug her out of the rubble of her family house, Fareeha's friendly welcome and the safe atmosphere of the castle had brought out her bouncy, spirited personality. The tragedies Hana had witnessed would never leave her dark eyes, but there was a steely resilience to her. 

Jack walked behind them. Clean shaven, he was dressed in simple but well-made clothes, not nearly as sumptuous as the wardrobe he’d had as a prince but also not the peasant garb he’d stubbornly insisted on when they first set out. He looked like himself, no longer saddled with an image he didn’t want but no longer attempting to be the opposite of that image either.

Ready for their quarrel to continue, his posture stiffened when he saw Gabriel.

“How does she look?” Fareeha demanded, nudging Hana forward. “Doesn’t she look pretty?”

Her hair, shining from a good wash, had been swept up into pigtails fastened with pink ribbons. A matching one was tied in a bow around her throat and a belt of pearls was roped around her waist. Though Hana stumbled a bit over the hem of the frilly black and mauve gown, she gave Gabriel a cheeky curtsy.

“A bit too much like a lady,” Gabriel said with a frown, arms crossed. “She shouldn’t get used to such expensive clothes when she won’t be able to wear them.”

Hana’s face fell and Jack opened his mouth to protest.

But then Gabriel added: “You’d slide right out of the saddle in all that silk. And you remember we sleep on the ground half the time, right?”

Jack blinked in shock. Hana gazed up at Gabriel with shining wet eyes and flung herself at his legs.

“You mean it?” She cried. “I can stay with you?”

"If you're sure you want to," Gabriel said, tucking a stray strand of hair behind Hana's ear. "It's hard work living as a bounty hunter though."

"I'm not scared!" She declared, resolve on her little face.

"Alright." A smile played at his lips. “Go on. Tell Ana we’ll be in in a minute.”

“Okay!” Fareeha chirped. "Come on, cousin!"

While she led a beaming Hana into the banquet hall, Jack just stared at Gabriel, speechless for a few seconds.

“That’s…a bit of a change of heart from this morning," he finally said, unable to stop the grin spreading across his face. "What happened to all your reasons why the orphanage would be better for her? Did Sombra say we had to look after Hana or the future’s fucked?”

Gabriel laughed and slid his hands over Jack’s waist, tugging him closer. Jack moved into him easily, palms skimming up Gabriel's biceps to settle on his shoulders.

“No. But she did remind me that the point of life isn’t to just survive. And that some types of risks are worth it.”

Jack shone, unapologetically joyful, and pulled Gabriel into a kiss. Gabriel smiled into his lips and the rings hanging around their necks pressed together through their shirts. Outside the castle, the stars glittered in the sky, navigation for whatever tomorrow might throw their way.

END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the fluffiest thing I think I've ever written. Hope you enjoyed!
> 
> THANK YOU FOR READING!!!!!
> 
> <3


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